


Mutual Release

by Bre



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Mutual Masturbation, Post-Season/Series 02, Pre-Season/Series 03, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Smut, season 2.5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:28:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4090495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bre/pseuds/Bre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Season 2.5. Mutual frustration leads to other mutual things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Felicity

**Author's Note:**

> Nikki (CSM/nikkibeckettcsm) suggested I put this mini-series in one, easily accessible spot, for the re-reading fun!
> 
> Anon Prompt: Your smut is so great!! fuckening fic drive prompt? unestablished olicity where they mutually masturbate to relieve sexual tension. (Ah, the fuckening fic drive. That should tell you how old this prompt is... gah!)
> 
>   
>   
> Awesome banner by [Magda/dumplingnooona](http://dumplingnooona.tumblr.com/)  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in Season 2.5. Mutual frustration leads to other mutual things. Felicity’s POV. (Companion piece to Mutual Release: Oliver)

Felicity could not sleep.

_She could not sleep._

It was probably because she was too wired, that had to be it. They’d had a crazy night, what with chasing some bad guys, getting said bad guys trussed up and over to the good guys, then coming back to the foundry to find that a wire had frayed, and when she’d switched the generator on, a tiny spark had turned into a tiny fire catching on Oliver’s cot.

It had been a crazy night.

And it had only gotten crazier when she’d informed Oliver he was staying at her place.

She hadn’t missed the slight hesitation, the way he’d paused, his eyes narrowing at her - in what she’d thought was going to be the beginning of him fighting her on it - before nodding. He’d obviously been exhausted, that was the only reason why he didn’t put his foot down and give her The Look.

Things had been fine when they’d gotten home. She’d shown him to her spare bedroom, where the spare sheets and towels were, and that should have been that.

Except it hadn’t been that.

She’d had to take a shower - had being the imperative word - because she was covered in grime from the day, and soot and smoke from the small fire. It was late, she’d assumed he had dropped right into bed without preamble, so when she left the bathroom, wrapped only in a thin towel because she wasn’t used to not being able to walk around naked in her space, she hadn’t expected to run into him in the hallway.

She was _naked_ under her towel, still wet from the shower, hair dripping…

They’d both frozen, staring at each other, and Felicity remembered opening her mouth, remembering something spewing out but she wasn’t exactly sure what she’d said, because she’d been far too aware of the cool drop of water falling from her hair, hitting her shoulder, and how his eyes had followed it as it slid down her chest.

She’d only imagined the way his eyes had darkened, right? The way they’d narrowed, the way his lips had opened, how he’d just… stared at her, like _that_.

Yes, she had to have imagined it because anything else was lunacy.

She’d hightailed it out of the hallway so quickly, not giving herself enough time to stop to wonder if the burn in the center of her back was from him staring or her embarrassment.

Felicity sat up, reaching for her glass of water, but nothing was there. Felicity grumbled under her breath, throwing the sheet back. She tiptoed to her door, opening it slightly, listening… but nothing happened. And then she rolled her eyes at herself.

This was her house, darn it, she should be able to walk around however she wanted to walk around.

Still, she stepped out into the hallway lightly, leaving her door open, tiptoeing towards the kitchen, and coincidentally towards his door.

When she heard the rustle of sheets coming from his room, she froze.

And then she heard a soft sigh, and another rustle and she froze even more.

Was he awake?

And then he _moaned_.

Felicity’s eyes widened, her heart stopping so quickly she nearly fell over. She slowly reached out, touching the wall, making sure she was actually standing there, that she wasn’t dreaming, that she didn’t just hear Oliver freaking moan in his room, like he was…

He sighed, and then he gasped, and she heard the distinctive sound of the bed moving, like he was…

“Oh my god,” Felicity mouthed, closing her eyes, moving so softly it was like she wasn’t even there to lean against the wall.

Was he really…

He moaned again, the sound of the bed moving under his self-ministrations coming out to meet her. She glanced over - because how was she hearing this so clearly - and saw his door cracked open.

She should move, give him his privacy, do _something_ , but she didn’t… 

God help her, she didn’t want to because this was… 

Felicity closed her eyes in horror when she felt the rush of desire between her thighs, a push of warmth so quick and fast that she actually throbbed. This shouldn’t be so arousing, right? She shouldn’t be thinking about him in there, with his hand wrapped around himself, stroking up and down, slowly tightening, rubbing the head…

Felicity slouched against the wall, biting her bottom lip to keep herself quiet as her body reacted to the noises he was making. They sounded good… too good, like something she never thought she’d get to hear. She wondered what he’d sound like when he was close. She wondered if he’d squeeze harder, how much faster he’d move, what his face would look like when he…

The movements in there grew faster and she squeezed her thighs together. She raised her hand - in what she thought was to push her glasses back up on her face, but she wasn’t wearing them… Instead, her hand ghosted over her chest, over her already hard nipples. They tingled when she touched them, and she closed her eyes.

Was she really doing this? Was she really?

What was wrong with her?

It was like her hand had a life of its own, moving down her front, slipping over her stomach. She barely brushed the area between her legs - barely brushed it - but she felt every single bit, like she was so overly sensitive someone could breathe on her and she’d fall over.

He moaned again.

Felicity forced herself to inhale slowly, forced herself to move her hand away. She was about to force herself to get away from the wall, get away from his room, leave him alone, when he moaned again, and then…

“Felicity…”

Felicity’s jaw dropped, shock and need clashing together in a violent hurricane of emotions in her chest as her body reacted to the sound.

He’d said her name.

He said _her_ name.

He gasped, the bed groaning slightly as he sped up and Felicity didn’t even think after that. 

She shoved her hand into her pants, gently placing her head on the wall as she pushed her fingers into her panties. She was so wet already, practically dripping and she dipped her middle finger into her juices, swirling her fingers around in a way that took her breath away before spreading them over her clit. It was already hard and ready, aching under her touch, and she stood up on the balls of her feet, her hips arching up as she started rubbing rapidly.

It was amazing how ready she was, how close to the brink… the sounds he was making, the thought of his hand wrapped around himself, pleasuring himself, thinking about _her_ …

Her pleasure was a tight whip that snapped out from her center, cascading through her body before rapidly swinging back, tightening in the pit of her stomach, growing hotter and hotter, burning as she chased her own release right along with him…

“Oooh,” he whimpered from his room, and she swore she actually heard his hand moving faster.

She rubbed herself harder, her fingers sliding over her clit just how she liked it, the quickest and easiest way to get herself off…

She wanted to come when he did, wanted to feel her release crashing through her just as he did…

“Oh god,” he choked out in a harsh whisper, and Felicity bit her lip, rubbing faster, the pleasure building quicker and quicker…

Oliver let out a loud moan that he immediately cut off as he came, the sound of his mattress groaning under him. Her clit grew harder under her fingers as her orgasm raced up on her, as her mind went into overdrive, imagining the thick ropes of cum shooting out, coating his stomach and hand, slowly sliding down those delicious cut lines of his abdomen that led straight to his…

Her release came on without warning and she bit her tongue to keep herself from making any noise as she stiffened.

It whipped through her, radiating heat and pleasure in a wicked combination that almost made her moan, her hand still moving, her mind still in the bedroom with him, still imagining what he looked like as he came…

Felicity shuddered, holding her breath, her hips still undulating against her hand before coming to a stop. It took all of her willpower to slowly release the air that was making her lungs burn.

She pulled her soaking fingers out of her pants, wiping them on her tank top, forcing herself to breath evenly until she was alone…

And then she let her head fall back against the wall with a loud thud.

Felicity froze, the pleasure-filled aftereffects disappearing instantly.

She heard Oliver freeze in his room and Felicity was moving before she could process what she’d just done. She ran back into her room on her toes, not making a single sound - she’d spend the rest of the week wondering just how she had done that - slowly turning to shut her door. She heard him, heard the sound of his door opening, and she launched herself into her bed, throwing the comforter over her face before freezing again…

Felicity didn’t move, didn’t breathe, as the floor outside her door creaked… 

But that was it.

It was a long time before she fell asleep.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	2. Oliver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in Season 2.5. Mutual frustration leads to other mutual things. Oliver’s POV. (Companion piece to Mutual Release: Felicity)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon Prompt: Your smut is so great!! fuckening fic drive prompt? unestablished olicity where they mutually masturbate to relieve sexual tension. (Ah, the fuckening fic drive. That should tell you how old this prompt is... gah!)

Oliver knew the instant he’d agreed to stay at Felicity’s that he would regret it.

 _He knew that_.

Something had been… _something_ between them, something neither of them were willing to recognize, to do anything about really, and that had been okay because they always had their separate places to go after work. She went home, he went to his cot, or she was at the foundry while he was out in the field.

It was manageable.

But it had been a long day, he’d been tired and sore from running after a group of kids who’d bought a case of guns from a gang in Coast City, and then they’d gotten back to the foundry only to have the entire place almost burn down from an exposed wire that somehow caught when they turned the generator on, causing a small fire to start on his cot.

But it had been fine… until it wasn’t.

And that moment came when he stepped into the hallway the same time she stepped out of the bathroom after her shower.

It had taken all over Oliver’s self-control to stay right where he was when she froze, her eyes going wide, staring up at him, looking simultaneously gorgeous as hell and vulnerable standing there in nothing - absolutely nothing - but a towel that was way too thin.

She’d said something - and he knew that because her lips were moving - but then a tiny droplet of water had dripped from her hair, landing on her bare shoulder, sliding down the smooth skin to disappear into where she’d tied the towel off.

His fingers had itched to catch it, to dry the spot, before… kissing it. God, he’d thought about kissing it, right then. He’d thought about pushing her up against the wall, hooking his hands under her arms, lifting her just enough so his tongue could follow the path the water took…

And then he’d snapped out of it.

What the _hell_ was he thinking?

This was Felicity.

The tension dancing between them had been so thick he could taste it when he’d realized she’d been saying something - he couldn’t even remember - before she darted off into her room.

Oliver had immediately darted back into his own room, letting the door close itself as he laid down.

That had been two hours ago, and he was still thinking about that damn towel.

Oliver groaned, rubbing his face, shifting to get comfortable.

The bed smelled like her.

The sheets were soft, caressing his skin, making him wonder how she would feel… 

She would be soft, he knew that, she was always soft. And fragrant, she smelled of something spicy and flowery, but so light it was barely detectable, and it mixed so well with whatever made her _Felicity_.

Oliver’s body hardened at the thought.

He wondered what she smelled like after a shower, everything washed away, leaving just her. Her skin had still be wet… the towel damp and clinging to her soft curves.

It had to be because he was tired, physically and emotionally, that he didn’t stop to wonder what he was doing. It was the only explanation for why he didn’t stop his hand from sliding down his body, to the hardness that had been present since the second he saw her out there, knowing she was wearing nothing underneath that towel.

Oliver sighed, caressing himself through his sweats, but it wasn’t enough. It had been a while since he’d been with anyone, a long while. He’d met women, been around a lot of them, but he was beginning to suspect his lack of interest was because they weren’t _her_.

Oh damn it, he was in trouble.

Oliver threw his sheet back, the cool air in the room biting at his bare chest as he pushed his sweats down, his thick erection popping free. He wrapped his hand around it, sighing again, stroking up and down. It grew heavier as he thought about Felicity in the hallway again, thought about the drip of water sliding down her shoulder, imagined licking it, hearing the sounds she would make.

His hand moved quickly, looking for a quick release, and it built rapidly… but not because of his tried and true method, no… but because he was watching in his mind’s eye as he pushed Felicity against the wall, his tongue following that water, tugging the towel off…

Oliver moaned at the thought, seeing her pert breasts, her toned stomach, all leading down to her center where she’d be wet and ready for him. He sighed, his hips moving to meet his hand as he thought about kneeling in front of her, lifting one of her gorgeous legs to throw of his shoulder, exposing her wet folds… 

She’d be a dark pink, shining, aching…

She’d whisper his name…

He moaned softly, hearing the way she said his name now, but only hearing it with less air, more need in her voice. She’d shove her fingers into his hair, urging him closer, and he’d hold her hip with one hand, the other sliding up her stomach to palm one of her breasts as he finally tasted her.

Oliver moaned again, and gripped himself with just his fingers, rubbing himself rapidly, his hips moving slightly, enhancing his pleasure as he imagined pushing her up the wall, tasting her, making her come…

“Felicity…” he whispered, arching into his hand. He felt the hot drip of precum seeping from the head of his erection, and it slid down, making the underside of his cock slick.

And then Oliver imagined her on her knees before him, her lips wrapped around him and he gasped, his hand moving quicker, chasing the hot burn of pleasure starting to build at the base of his spine.

Those beautiful plump lips, covered in hot pink lipstick, wrapped around him, her tongue swirling. Her hair would be wet, her body glistening from the shower, her taste still on his lips as she returned the favor…

“Oooh,” he whimpered, feeling her lips…

The coil inside him grew tighter and tighter, watching as she sucked on him, and he palmed his dick, rubbing, twisting his wrist with each thrust. She’d take all of him, swallowing…

“Oh god,” Oliver choked out, his hand moving faster.

The orgasm shot through him, and Oliver moaned loudly before cutting it off, pinching his lips together to keep his sounds to himself as his cum spurted out over his stomach. He kept rubbing, riding the pleasure until there was nothing left, his mind still in his fantasy, barely feeling his cum slowly leaking down, sliding down his abs, following the cut lines…

Oliver collapsed on the bed with a satisfied sigh, spent, his breathing harsh.

God… he’d needed that.

Now… now what he needed was to figure out how he was going to stop this goddamn fantasizing because this… this wasn’t going to work.

A soft thud sounded from the hallway.

Oliver froze, the pleasurable haze from his orgasm dissipating quickly. He sat up, listening for more, but nothing came.

Oliver slowly got up, grabbing his t-shirt, wiping himself clean before tucking himself back into his sweats.

He opened his door and peeked out, but nothing was there.

He’d definitely heard something

A thud.

Oliver quietly stepped out, taking a few steps towards Felicity’s door… no, there wasn’t any way that she… 

_No._

Still, Oliver paused, listening, but there were no noises coming from her room.

*

Oliver woke before her.

He thought about getting breakfast because the only thing she had in her kitchen was a half-filled jug of milk, two eggs, something that looked like it might have been pickles, mustard and some powder pancake mix that only required water, but he didn’t have his bike with him. He thought about taking her car, but trying to climb into that tiny thing was bad enough as the passenger. He couldn’t imagine driving it.

So… Oliver made pancakes.

Felicity came down as he was finishing up.

“You…” Felicity paused, hair mussed from sleeping on it, her tank top twisted slightly underneath a sweater she’d pulled on. She blinked at him, looking adorably confused, and Oliver couldn’t stop the smile that covered his face. “Oliver, are you cooking?”

“Yeah, I hope that’s alright.”

“Oh it’s alright. It’s more than alright. I’m starving.” She stepped into the kitchen, heading straight for the food. “You should be my guest more often.”

She walked up, tearing off a piece of a pancake from the plate of finished ones.

“Hey, hands off,” he said and she made a small pouty face before schooling her features. And then she stared at him. “What?”

She grinned. “You have… Here.”

She reached up, her thumb wiping away what must have been some pancake batter because she was about to put it in her mouth before changing her mind. Oliver tried to tell himself to look away, that the idea of watching her finger in her mouth was something he should not be wanting to see… but he didn’t. Instead he looked at her lips, his mind flashing back to what he’d imagined about last night, and his stomach tightened.

“A little more,” she said, reaching up again, wiping away the rest with her fingers, and he caught the distinct scent of…

Oliver’s heart lurched as he smelled what he was pretty sure was her arousal, like she’d… touched herself last night, like she’d…

Felicity froze, her eyes widening, her hand still on his cheek as he inhaled deeply, realizing at the same time as he did what exactly he was smelling on her…

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review literally feed my soul and muse.


	3. Oliver & Felicity, Part 1/6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Story #3 in my Mutual Release ficlets. Set in Season 2.5. Felicity and Oliver get caught up in the moment, leading to mutual releases in the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon Prompt - hi! :) just want you to know i loved loved your Mutual Release fic!! are you planning on writing a follow up to Oliver's story? from the moment it ends?! it would be awesome!! :))

_Felicity froze, her eyes widening, her hand still on his cheek as he inhaled deeply, realizing at the same time as he did what exactly he was smelling on her…_

A deep red flush rushed across her, making her skin feel like she was being pricked over and over with a red hot poker as they stared at each other, neither moving… until the distinct smell of burning pancake permeated the air, snapping her out of his stare.

“The pancakes,” Felicity whispered, and she pulled her hand back, but Oliver was faster. He caught her wrist and she gasped, “Oliver, what-” but his eyes never left her face as he swung his hand out, shoving the pan off the burner without looking. He didn’t let go of her as the pan clattered across the stovetop.

He opened his mouth, but it snapped shut just as quickly, like he’d changed his mind about what he was going to say - if _anything_ , and god, she really didn’t want him to say anything because this was… this was too much.

He could _smell her_ on her own _fingers_.

It was making her feel like throwing up the butterflies suddenly shoving themselves against the walls of her stomach.

She hadn’t thought about what she was doing when she wiped his cheek. He’d had batter dried on him; it’d been cute and endearing, and she’d wiped it away.

That was it… but it was so _not it_.

She knew what her fingers smelled like; she’d wiped drool off her face that morning with the very ones that she’d used to rub herself with last night, in the hallway, listening to him as he…

Felicity blushed even more as a rush of arousal flooded her sex at the memory, her stomach clenching, pulling at her center with the sound of his breathy, “Felicity,” echoing in her ear…

Electricity turned the air into charcoal between them, making her skin feel way too hot and tight.

Oliver slowly pressed her hand to his cheek, and her stomach dropped as he inhaled again. His hand on her wrist actually burned.

It took her a moment to realize she was breathing like she’d just gotten back from a nice three-hour long jog.

His gaze was steady as he took a step towards her, and she took a step back, matching him. He paused, and her body grew hotter and tighter as she watched his pupils dilate, his eyes growing darker, his skin growing warm under her hand. 

“You were in the hallway last night?” he asked softly and her heart choked, her eyes widening… he wasn’t even _trying_ to be coy.

“What?” she whispered. “No.”

“Did you hear me, last night?” he continued, taking another step and she told herself to shake her head, deny it, but all she could do was stare up at him like a deer caught in headlights, giving him all the answer he needed. “Felicity…”

Oh god, the way he said her name…

Her eyes fluttered, her breathing growing erratic as she heard in his voice the way he’d said it last night, when he’d been thinking about her as he… She opened her mouth to speak, to say something, but nothing came out.

Oliver pushed her hand further up his face and she pressed her other hand to his chest - to push him back, that was what she was supposed to do… but god, he was so hot through the plaid he was wearing, his heat was scorching.

His heart raced under her palm, his own breathing heavy and deep…

“Did you touch yourself too?” he asked, and she could only stare. “When I was?”

“I…” She didn’t answer, because she _couldn’t_ answer, but it was all the answer Oliver needed.

He let out a needy moan, the sound shooting straight through her, igniting a wicked fire in her core as he cupped her face, his lips finding hers in a wet kiss. Time stopped, for a split second, enough time for Felicity to wonder if she was dreaming, but it felt too real.

His stubble scraping her skin, his lips so soft… but it was that he was so warm under her hands...

This was real.

A soft cry fell from deep in Felicity’s throat and she gripped his face, pulling him down closer, her other fingers curling in his shirt, using it to pull herself up to meet him as much as she could. He tasted like butter and stolen pancake batter mixed with everything Oliver and it was intoxicating. It was everything she’d been ignoring for so long, because she wasn’t supposed to want him, she wasn’t supposed to be a walking cliché, falling for the man she just happened to spend way too much time with… and he wasn’t supposed to want her back.

_But he did._

Oliver moaned again, and it was so desperate and beautiful that Felicity answered with her own. He walked them backwards until her ass hit the counter abruptly, knocking things - useless meaningless things, who cared about things? - to the floor. The sounds he made stoked the fire inside her, and she pulled on him, trying to get him closer, wrapping a leg around his, feeling his heavy hard bulge pressing into her stomach.

The kiss lacked anything resembling coordination or rhythm - it was too desperate, too much at once, but they couldn’t stop, they didn’t want to. It was wet and warm and powerful and it was the best one of her entire life.

Because it was _Oliver_.

But it was also… _Oliver_.

They couldn’t do this.

She was ready to climb him like a tree, ready to rip his clothes off, shove her pants down and hop on the counter and let him do whatever he wanted with her, but… but no, it couldn’t be like this.

It shouldn’t be like this.

Whatever weirdly amazing symbiotic wavelength they were on was operating at full speed because he realized the same thing at the same time.

“Felicity,” he gasped hotly, trying to pull back, but instead he kissed her again, and again, like he couldn’t stop. Felicity groaned, digging her nails into his scalp, and he shivered in response; she cataloged it in her mind for later.

But would there be a later?

Should there be a later?

“Wait, wait, hang on, hang on,” she moaned, and he stopped, but he didn’t move.

The intimate bubble they’d created in the space of ten seconds pulsated around them, urging them on, urging them to take what they had both wanted for so long, but… they _couldn’t_.

Not like this.

“Not like this,” Oliver whispered in agreement, nodding, his forehead pressed to hers. “Right.”

“Right,” she repeated, trying to catch her breath while also trying to ignore how _good_ he felt pressed against her. She’d always marveled at how big he was - because he was huge - but right now he was everywhere, surrounding her, cocooning her and she never wanted to leave… “Right.”

They didn’t move; they didn’t want to move. A drawer handle was digging into Felicity’s thigh painfully, but she was happy to stay right there, forever, letting that stupid handle dig into her until the end of time if it meant being right here, in Oliver’s arms.

“Felicity,” he breathed. “I…” She was nodding before he could get the words out, encouraging him. “You heard me last night?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Trepidation, shock and awe filled her chest like gasoline ready to explode.

He was trembling, like he was fighting himself and she cupped the back of his neck, kissing him, once, twice, three time, more… soft, easy pecks as he said, “I was thinking about you… God, I think about you, all the time…”

“Me too.” Oliver’s eyes flew open and she gave him a shy smile. “What else is a girl to do when you walk around shirtless all the time?”

He gave her a breathy chuckle, closing his eyes, pressing the full length of his body against hers. She choked out a moan when she felt the very, very large bulge pushing into her again. He moved in slow, easy movements against her, rubbing himself, and she closed her eyes, pressing her forehead harder against his.

“When I saw you in that towel last night,” he continued, his voice so low, just for them, only for them. “I thought about taking it off…” He closed his eyes, his hands dropping to her shoulders and down her body to rest on her hips. “I thought about pushing you up against the wall… opening your legs, so I could taste you…”

The imagery had Felicity shuddering, a surge of warmth soaking her panties; his tongue on her, tasting her, eating her…

Oliver felt her response and he rubbed against her with more urgency, his erection swelling, growing harder…

“Show me,” he whispered, his fingers digging into her hips. “Show me how you touched yourself.”

Felicity’s clit tingled at his words, but something inside her had her hesitating for a quick breath, and he pushed her further into the counter with a, “Please… Felicity…” and that was all she needed.

Her hand dropped from his neck as she opened her eyes to find him already staring at her. It was intense, almost too intense, but she didn’t look away as she dragged her fingers down his chest, touching both of them where they were pressed together. He moaned when she grazed the bulge in his jeans before she slipped her hand into her pants.

“Oh god, Felicity,” he said, his voice strangled.

“Let me show you,” Felicity said, her voice low with need, with desire and he pulled back, his brow furrowing in question. She removed her hand and grabbed his, pushing both of them into her pants, into her panties. His eyes fluttered shut, his face twisting in a bid for control.

She watched him, knowing she was already wet, knowing what he felt when she pushed his fingers against her sex.

Oliver growled her name viciously, wrapping his free arm around her waist and lifted her to sit on the counter. He shoved her legs apart, pushing himself between them as he tugged her to the edge of the counter, pressing himself against her inner thigh, his fingers moving against her wet, puffy lips.

“Show me,” he gritted, shoving his face into her shoulder. Felicity’s head fell back, hitting the cupboard with a dull thud. She started moving her fingers, showing him exactly how she’d touched herself the night before.

He maneuvered his to cover hers, following her every move as she found her clit, already so sensitive that one touch made her hips jerk erratically. She started to rub the wet nub, rubbing just like she had when she’d listened to him last night, to his moans, his gasps…

“Oh god,” she moaned, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer as he applied pressure to her fingers, sending sparks of pleasure pulsating through her as he rubbed himself against her thigh in short, uneven strokes.

It was the most erotic thing she’d ever felt in her life.

His breath was hot and wet on her shoulder, his thrusts pushing her awkwardly into the counter, as he started whispering in a choked voice, “I thought about you… last night… how you’d taste, how you’d feel wrapped around me… on your knees.” She gripped him tighter. “Your lips wrapped around me, those beautiful lips. God, I love your lips…”

“Yes… more, more,” Felicity whimpered, and Oliver moved faster, his hand just following hers as she chased her release, the pressure starting to build in painfully sharp shockwaves in her center. His moans grew louder, his whispered words more frantic, describing how he thought about her lips, her bright pink lips, sucking on him, sucking… sucking…

She moved faster, her clit slick and eager under her touch - under his touch - as he rubbed himself against her.

“I wanted to come… in your mouth…” he choked out, his words coming out in a mindless babble, that she was sure he wasn’t even aware he was saying, but it was pure, and it pushed her higher. “Into your warmth…”

“Oh god, oh god… ah, ah, ah!”

Felicity came, her cries slammed against the walls, the orgasm shooting through her, tightening painfully in her core before exploding through her body. She wrenched her head back, hitting the cupboard, her mouth open in a silent scream as sharp pricks tingled along every inch of her, down to the soles of her feet, her release coating both of them.

Felicity barely felt him move his hand as he slid it around, still in her panties, to grip her ass, his fingers digging into her as he shifted just enough to rub himself against her hot sex. He thrust against her in time with the aftershocks of her release and Felicity yanked her hand out of her pants, her fingers glistening, to grip his neck, moving her hips with his, urging him on…

“Aaahhhh!” Oliver stiffened in her arms, shoving himself against her as hard as he could as he came in his pants, the hot surge of his cum soaking through the jeans…

A moment passed… and another, as they sat there, leaning on each other, inhaling each other as much as the still lingering smell of charred pancakes.

“So…” Felicity finally whispered. “That happened.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	4. Oliver & Felicity, Part 2/6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Story #4 in my Mutual Release ficlets. Set in Season 2.5. They haven’t talked about it, but they both know it can’t go past whatever it is they’re doing… that doesn’t stop them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon Prompt - Prompt: I think the mutual release follow up should stick with the theme! Oliver refuses to cross the line and have sex with her but Felicity convinces him to let her watch a repeat of last night and they masturbate in front of each other.

_“So… that happened.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“I guess we should… talk.”_

Oliver knew the instant he walked into the foundry that Felicity was already there. The lights were on, the familiar whir of the servers working at full capacity filling the air… but there was also the light scent of her perfume lingering, telling him she’d beaten him there by about twenty minutes. He checked his watch; Diggle and Roy were due around six, getting back from the other side of the Glades where they’d been doing recon work all day.

Roy’s call had interrupted them that morning, and Oliver had sprung away from Felicity so hard and quick he’d nearly tripped on his own feet and landed hand-first on the still-hot burner. She’s stared at him with a startled face, not moving, still sprawled on the counter, two wet spots on her pajama bottoms - one from her, one from him - her eyes wide, her fingers gripping the counter to keep from falling off.

Roy was calling. About a new lead.

_… It’d be so easy to walk back over there, tug her pants off; he’d inhale her sweet scent, taste her, fill her with his tongue… she’d be so wet; he wanted her drenching his lips and chin as he made her come again before seeing how many fingers he could…_

Work.

_… Or she would hop off the counter, stalking towards him, her eyes dark with promise. She’d toss his phone aside, her nimble fingers having his pants undone in the blink of an eye; she’d say, ‘we should probably clean you up,’ before she tugged his pants down, her warm mouth doing just that, taking his half-erect cock between her lips… he’d get hard again and she’d suck him off, just like he imagined her doing…_

Recon.

_… He was already growing hard again as he stared at her, his neck still drying from her wet fingers where she’d gripped him, his hand still hot from following her lead when she’d touched herself… it’d be so easy to pick her up and move to the kitchen table, bury himself inside her…_

Duty called.

_… He wanted to watch her come this time; he wanted to see the pleasure build inside her, watch her as she flew apart, losing control because of him, for him…_

Oliver had left, neither of them saying a word.

He had no idea what to say, and judging by the look in her eyes when she’d silently slid off the counter, wrapping her sweater tightly around herself, she was in the same boat. It had just… _happened_. The second she’d touched his check, the instant he recognized that scent on her fingers, nothing else but _her_ had mattered in that moment.

If Roy hadn’t called him…

Oliver paused at the top of the stairs, watching her chair turn towards them. He watched her long gorgeous legs as she uncrossed them, standing tentatively, waiting for him to come all the way down.

He didn’t move, his eyes glued to her tonged calves and smooth thighs, simultaneously feeling the way she’d wrapped herself around him when he’d thrust against her just that morning… and feeling cheated because he hadn’t had the chance to properly touch them. 

She had to wear a skirt? She had to wear those heels - were they higher than her usual fare? - and stand up, move, do anything… 

He was in trouble. 

Oliver made his way down. Felicity stood, twisting her hands, pinching her lips… and he had to stop at the base of the steps to keep from going over to her, from cupping her face, from kissing her again… from giving into the need to feel her against him.

He knew if he did, if he went over and kissed her, touched her… lifted her into his arms and pushed her against the wall, she wouldn’t fight him. She’d moan, just like she had that morning, and neither of them would care about anything but _that moment_ again. Nothing would matter but losing himself in her, and that wasn’t good.

At least one of them needed to be semi-sane, because Oliver could actually feel her panties tearing in his hand when he ripped them off her, feel his fingers struggling to shove his jeans down, his body soaring in anticipation when he pressed himself against her hot sex…

Oliver rubbed his fingers together, and she didn’t miss the motion.

And thank fuck she didn’t move closer to him. 

“We should probably… talk,” she said. Oliver barely made himself nod. He moved, making a wide berth around her to his chair at the opposite bank of computers. “Because… this is something people talk about, I guess. Or not. Or maybe they do, I don’t know, I’ve never done… been in this…” She waved her hands between them as he set his jacket down. “I… I don’t know what to call this.”

“Me neither,” he said, his voice sounding like he’d swallowed gravel.

He cleared his throat, sitting down, lacing his fingers together. Felicity hesitated, watching his every move before she glanced back at her chair, but she didn’t move for it. Oliver stared at the floor, unable to even look at her in case he did something uncouth…

She finally moved, back to her side, and silence reigned for a heavy second.

Oliver sighed. “I don’t think this is… smart.”

“Oh,” was all she said.

Her chair groaned when she sat further back and he looked at her. She was staring at the ground, her face an open book - god, she thought he _regretted_ it…

The words were out before he could stop them, “I don’t think I could stop, Felicity… if we started. Again.”

Wide eyes flew up to meet his, her response immediate, “Me either.”

His chest deflated, his head bowing and he squeezed his hands together.

“So what now?” she asked.

Oliver opened his mouth to respond, to give her a plan because he liked plans - plans were safe and gave things structure - but he had nothing. He hadn’t thought about what happened next, he hadn’t _cared_. He hadn’t been able to think past how good it’d felt being in her arms, having her wrapped around him… how good it’d been and he hadn’t even _unzipped his goddamn pants_.

Oliver groaned and sat back in the chair, scrubbing his face.

Felicity shifted in her chair.

His eyes flew open, immediately landing on her legs.

She noticed, and Oliver’s eyes slowly dragged up her body.

“Pretend it didn’t happen it is then,” Felicity said breathlessly, shifting again, squeezing her thighs together.

She was flushed, lips parted… they were painted bright red today.

“Yeah,” was all he managed. And then their eyes met.

He really should have just walked right past her, never looked at her. Was that the only way to make this work? He couldn’t even look at her without his jeans getting tight, his blood rushing in anticipation, in remembered passion… his body remembering the way she’d touched him, how she’d tasted…

“It’s too bad,” she whispered, her tone laced with insinuation. Oliver cocked his head, waiting for her to continue, neither commenting on the way the air around them seemed to grow thick and heavy - and hot, too hot… She smiled coyly. “I didn’t get to see yours.”

Oliver felt like someone had just slapped him across the mouth as everything inside him exploded with a heady mixture of arousal and need, his heart stopping dead at the same time as he processed her words.

“What time are they due back?” she asked.

“Six,” he answered instantly.

That wasn’t what he meant to say. He meant to say, _‘No.’_

“That’s… enough time, if…”

“Felicity…”

“Just once, Oliver,” she replied softly, and his cock jumped to life, even more than it already was.

The heavy erection that he’d been walking around with all day made itself known, pressing painfully against the harsh seam of his jeans. It didn’t escape his attention how languid she suddenly was in her chair, her legs falling to the side, only the fact that she had her ankles crossed keeping them together, and he had the perfect image of her legs falling open, her fingers dancing up her thigh, inviting him…

“Just once…”

Oliver groaned, shutting his eyes, his fingers twitching to do what she was asking.

No, this couldn’t… this couldn’t work, not like this…

“Please?”

Her quiet plea was his undoing.

Oliver’s eyes snapped open, his mouth falling open in a pant as his fingers flew to his jeans. She stared at him, her lids growing heavy, her tongue sneaking out to touch her lip - fuck, that was too much, she looked too good. He undid his button and fly, lifting his hips enough to shove his jeans and boxer briefs down.

His erection popped free, bobbing with his movements, and he quickly gripped it in a tight fist, moving his hand up to squeeze the head.

Felicity gasped at the same time he did, like she was feeling everything he did. She licked her lips, tugging her bottom one between her teeth and the sight of the white against the shocking red made him groan, arousal shooting through him, making his dick swell.

He moved his fist, fast, not needing anything but the sight of her watching him jerk off in front of her.

The thought that they shouldn’t be doing this, that Roy and Digg might walk in and catch them, that she was keeping herself all the way over there, doing nothing but watching his hand move up and down, up and down, her chest rising with heavier breaths, her hands gripping the arms of her chair…

“Oh god, Felicity,” he moaned, his head falling back, his hand moving faster. He twisted it rapidly, pulling on the head when he came up, the pain mixing with the pleasure…

“You’re so beautiful, Oliver,” she whispered, her voice cracking, her fingers digging into the chair, and he felt beautiful. He felt like a god, sitting there, letting her watch him, knowing he was doing this for her, because she’d asked him to. “Oliver…”

Her nipples were hard, poking through her tight top, and she shifted in the chair, biting her lip again as she squeezed her thighs together.

He knew she had to be wet – wet from watching him; and god, now he _knew_ how wet she could get.

“Touch yourself,” he grated out, and she gasped his name, the sound bursting with unfulfilled need. “For me, touch yourself for me.”

She nodded frantically and she spread her legs, pulling her panties out of the way before pressing her hand between her thighs.

“Let me see, I wanna see,” he mumbled, rubbing himself harder. It felt so good… waves of pleasure cascaded through him, a dull burn starting to grow with fervor. She lifted her leg, hooking it over the arm of her chair, spreading herself open for him and he groaned her name, the word ending in a desperate whine as she pushed two fingers inside herself, sliding in with ease. “Yes, like that, like that…”

“Oliver,” she whimpered. He watched her plaster her palm to her pubic bone, to her clit, and start rubbing in quick jerky movements, making her cry out. Her hips arched to meet her hand, and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

They watched each other, their mutual pleasure growing, growing…

She spread her legs wider, her hand rotating slightly, right against her clit, and he thought about how wet she’d been, how his fingers had smelled like her for hours afterwards…

“Felicity…” he whispered.

He noticed the deep pink blush starting to creep up her chest, her neck…

The sound of her fingers thrusting into her wet sex echoed the soft pull of his hand wrapped around his cock.

He saw himself getting up, shoving her hand out of the way and thrusting into her to the hilt.

“Oh god,” he croaked, his hips moving and he twisted his hand quickly, staring at her hand as she touched herself for him.

“Yes,” she moaned, moving faster and her desperate, “Oh, oh, oh, oh god, I…” pushed him over the edge.

Oliver came with a throaty cry, his cum spurting out of him, the world dimming for a second. He barely had enough sense to shift so it landed on his chest, coating his shirt. He kept moving, mindlessly, harder, finishing himself off as her moans grew louder.

He let out a strangled sigh, trying to catch his breath, and watched her stare at his chest, at his cum, her hips grinding into her hand. The flushed pink raced up over her skin, her head falling back, her eyes still on his cum… and then she stiffened, coming with an explosive shout that echoed through the foundry.

The orgasm rolled through her, her face gorgeously out of control, her mouth opened in a needy cry… before she slumped into the chair, completely spent.

Felicity hummed, pulling her fingers out, and Oliver felt another bout of needy start to grow rapidly in his chest as she pushed her fingers over her puffy lips, spreading her juices. Her head lolled lazily, her eyes half-drugged with pleasure, and he was struck with how trusting she was, how open…

And he was right about wanting to watch her come.

She was _stunning_.

Oliver stood jerkily, without thought, shoving himself back into his boxers. He tugged his shirt off, crumpling the soiled material into a ball as he made his way over to her.

She opened her eyes, watching him without censure, neither saying a thing.

Instead he leaned over her and cupped her face, pressing his lips to hers. It was soft at first, but quickly grew into more as she whined deep in her chest, using her hand - the hand she’d just come all over - to grab his neck, pulling him closer to her…

The sound of the foundry door at the top of the stairs opening interrupted them, and they shot away from each other like the other was on fire.

Oliver spun to grab his leathers, yanking the glass case open a little too hard, as Felicity stood - he felt a tickle of delight when she stumbled, her legs still jelly-like - and headed towards the bathroom just as Roy and Diggle started coming down the stairs.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	5. Oliver & Felicity, Part 3/6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story #5 in my Mutual Release ficlets. Set in Season 2.5. They know it can't keep happening… but it does.

_They tried_ , they really did.

It became an unspoken agreement to avoid any moments where they might be alone together, where temptation might take over, where they might give in… where small glances, a hand on the shoulder, a little grin could quickly spiral into more.

They went from spending almost every minute together to purposefully keeping someone around to act as their buffer. Felicity suddenly found herself having a lot more dinners with John and Lyla, even with Roy. She invited Lyla out to go baby clothes shopping, she offered to wire up Roy’s new sound system… anything to avoid being at the foundry.

Being alone with Oliver felt too much like playing with fire - they weren’t a something, they shouldn’t be a something because they had more in their lives than that simple desire… their relationship was based on Oliver’s mission, on what was best for the city, there were things that had to come before them… right?

But that didn’t stop them from wanting it. 

Felicity wished she didn’t feel the tug in the pit of her stomach when she caught him staring at her, or the rush in her chest when her hand brushed too close to his, their fingers naturally seeking each other out. Their hands would intertwine for a split second, just a blip of time, but it was long enough to send the desire constantly simmering below the surface careening into a bone-deep hunger that thrummed through her veins, leaving her trembling, making her _throb_ …

His grip always tightened, like he _knew_ , and he’d step closer…

But then reality always stomped back in, or someone broke the spell, and they’d jerk away from each other, resuming their now customary ten feet of separation.

_They tried…_

… But sometimes it didn’t work.

Like when he came back early from a patrol, and she’d been leaning over her desk, scrawling out a note for him: 

_‘Lyla had weird contractions, so John’s at the hospital - they’re fine. Roy went home. F’_

She hadn’t heard him enter, hadn’t heard him do anything until he’d been right behind her…

She’d felt him… heard him taking a short breath… and then he’d plastered himself to her back. His lips found the back of her neck, his hands reaching around her to the pants she wore for Tech Village, the ones she’d vowed to never wear anywhere else but in that hellhole when she first got the job. They had quickly become a staple of her wardrobe a few weeks earlier, because they were another barrier between them…

His fingers were already moving, undoing all the buttons, and then he’d grabbed her hand, pushing it into her panties as he pressed her over her desk.

Felicity should have argued. She should have said, _‘No, this is bad.’_

But she didn’t.

They never did.

She’d been so wet - she was always wet for him; her body knew what waited for her if she just gave in - and she’d quickly spread it all over her clit. He’d pressed his hard bulge against the curve of her ass, gripping her hip with one hand, the other curving around her sex, pressing her hand harder through her pants, rubbing _with_ her…

She’d ridden both their hands until she was yelping, her voice carrying through the foundry, and he’d thrust against her, just like he had in the kitchen, his harsh grunts echoing in her ear, growing more urgent. He’d grabbed her jaw, his lips seeking hers, the hand cupping her sex anchoring her in place. Pleasurable aftershocks radiated through her pelvis, making her shudder and moan as he’d rubbed himself harder and faster…

The kiss had been hot, wet and messy when he came, just like the warm wetness seeping through his pants into hers…

It only made them try harder.

If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything, and for a while they let themselves think it could work…

Until it didn’t.

*

Felicity felt good. She hadn’t had that much to drink at John and Lyla’s, although she’d had a little bit more than usual to compensate for Lyla’s lack of ability to drink at the moment. Because she cared… maybe that was it.

Because it certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Oliver had poured himself into her passenger seat after dinner at the Diggle’s.

Alone.

They were alone. 

Felicity pulled up next to his bike at the foundry, slipping the car into park. She deliberately left it on, giving him a tight smile. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he replied. The only move he made was to touch the door handle. “Tomorrow.”

“Yep.” Felicity turned to face the brick wall, her hands gripping the steering wheel. “Tomorrow is another day.”

She waited for him to get out… but he didn’t move, and she didn’t tell him to. She stared at the wall, the tension between them growing thick, making the air feel soupy.

It’d be so easy to…

_No._

Felicity closed her eyes, forcing her lungs to work, before looking at him…

He was already staring at her, and her heart stopped.

“Oliver,” she said, her voice huskier than it had any right to be. “Get out of the car.”

He blinked, inhaling quickly, making his nostrils flare. She gripped the steering wheel harder, to keep herself from reaching for him. He still didn’t move, and she took a shaky breath, willing herself to look away, look at anything else, but she couldn’t.

_She could not look away._

His sharp blue eyes, a deep cobalt in the shadows of the car, were like a tractor beam. He was looking at her like he wanted to eat her alive and every cell in her body responded to it, yearning towards him. She felt the ghostly memory of his hands on her body, his rushed words as he whispered dirty things in her ear, his wet lips, his hot fingers… 

A rush of warmth flooded her panties and she squeezed her thighs together, tearing her eyes away from his.

“Oliver, please,” she pleaded, closing her eyes.

Silence reigned… before the soft rustle of his clothes sounded. She _felt_ his hand, hovering of her arm, like he was about to touch her… but instead he wrenched his door open, the Mini shaking with the force.

"Goodnight, Felicity.”

He didn’t wait for a response, shutting the door with finality.

“’Night," she whispered, watching him go.

When he disappeared into the building, she thought about putting the car into gear and leaving…

But she didn’t move.

She barely let go of the steering wheel.

_What if he was undressing for bed?_

"It's time to go." 

_She wondered what he wore - did he sleep naked?_

Felicity closed her eyes, shaking her head, holding the wheel tighter. "This is ridiculous. Go."

_Maybe he was taking a shower…_

"Oh god," Felicity whimpered, biting her tongue. She could perfectly see the water sluicing down his abdomen, over the strictly cut muscles, down, down, down… following the very distinct ‘v’ that led straight to his…

Felicity moaned under her breath.

She hadn't been lying when she'd said he was beautiful, when he'd pulled out his thick erection a few weeks ago. Felicity's palms grew damp, her right hand twitching, imagining how he'd feel in her palm. She’d watched it swell the more he touched himself, finally growing a dark dusky pink when he'd come…

She gripped the steering wheel, remembering watching him, remembering the feeling that he'd come because of her, for her, and that thought alone had pushed her over the edge.

And now he was in there, alone, and…

She had a choice.

Felicity shut the engine off in one smooth movement and was out of the car in the blink of an eye. The next she was at the entrance to the foundry, entering the security code and then the door was opening.

She was already halfway down the stairs when she spotted him.

He stood next to her desk, facing the stairs, waiting. His face was clouded with the same fiery lust coursing through her veins, and his hands were clenched in tight fists, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, his eyes on her…

_Waiting._

One of the monitors behind him showed the camera for the parking lot.

He’d been watching her - watching her struggle… Felicity’s stomach dropped, and she knew right then.

She was done trying.

She was done denying it, hiding from it, whatever it was between them. She _needed_ him, something inside her called to him, craving his touch almost as much as she craved to touch him.

The same unhindered passion reflected back at her as she quickly descended the rest of the stairs, whispering his name, the needy desperation in her voice cementing her decision. 

The instant they within arm’s reach, Oliver grabbed her, yanking her against his chest, his lips crashing into hers.

Felicity moaned, pushing up on her toes to get closer to him, the humming in her body shooting to deafening levels. Oliver hiked her into his arms, pulling her off her feet and spun them around, colliding with the first surface he could find. The hard metal of her desk bit at her ass and legs as he shoved her against it, forcing the desk back a few inches; the sound of metal legs on concrete screeched in the air, but neither of them could be bothered to stop.

Oliver pushed her jacket off and leaned down, pulling her pencil skirt up and around her waist before he lifted her, depositing her on the desk. She gasped, the cool metal burning her heated flesh. His hands dropped to her hips, and then lower, kneading her lush thighs, making her whine. He dug his nails into her naked flesh, scratching her - marking her - and she mewled his name at the pull and tug it created in her slick folds. 

Felicity grasped for his jacket to pull him closer, wrapping her legs around him, pulling him in until she felt the hard seam of his jeans her through her panties. Heady sensation exuded from her core as he rubbed against her, and Oliver gripped her thighs, bending her back farther over the desk as his hips rocked into hers.

“Oh god,” she whispered, reaching around him to shove her hands into his back pockets. She squeezed his ass, pushing him against her harder, whimpering, “Yes, yes… Oliver…” 

He buried his face in her throat, soft kisses quickly dissolving into wet marks, his teeth nipping painfully, making her cry out. It felt like he wanted to devour all of her, all at once, like he couldn’t control himself, like he needed everything _now_. 

Felicity dipped her face towards his, nuzzling his cheek with hers. He moaned her name, breathless, and nuzzled her back before angling his head to capture her lips again.

The moan he gave her was simple and quiet, and it shot through her like a bullet, her straight to her foundations.

He felt it too; the desperation, the need, the burning pull between them…

They were done, done ignoring, done pushing each other away.

Felicity’s hands fluttered over him, over his shoulders, across his chest. She shoved his jacket off and he leaned back enough to fling it away. She pulled him back as his hand cupped her jaw, angling her head back so he could reach her throat again. He licked and nipped along her delicate column, his lips and tongue following it down until he reached her collarbone.

“Oh, right there, right there,” she whimpered. Oliver cupped the back of her neck, keeping her still as he bit and sucked on the same spot, sending a spike of pained pleasure straight to her center, making her throb even more. “Oliver, I need…”

“What?” he gasped, dragging his face up her neck, his stubble making her shiver violently. “What do you need?”

The unspoken words hovered between them.

Felicity pushed her hands up his shirt, his skin scorching against her fingers. A surge of desire shot through her at the thought of touching him. She wanted to touch every inch of him, all the muscles she’d stared at for too long, the gentle soft lines that belied his strength… 

She wanted to taste him, to slowly drag her tongue down his abs, his hard cock rubbing between her breasts as she moved down…

A strangled moan escaped her throat and she pushed him back, letting her legs drop as she pulled at his button. Oliver immediately yanked his shirt out of the way as she fumbled with the button and zipper, finally giving, and she shoved his jeans down his hips, hooking her fingers in his boxers, pushing them down next.

She couldn’t believe how hot his skin was, how hot he was against her chilled hands…

What would it feel like to have him over her, blanketing her, thrusting into her…

His thick erection popped free and she wrapped her fingers around him.

“Felicity,” he breathed, watching her hand as she slowly moved up and down. He lifted his shirt higher for a better view, baring more of his hard stomach, and Felicity splayed her other hand across his abs, making him groan.

“Yes,” Oliver whispered and Felicity looked up, watching him.

His eyes were on her hand, his mouth open in a heavy pant as he swayed in time with her movements. When she reached the head of his cock she ran her index finger over the tip, through a tiny drop of precum starting to seep out. He jerked as she spread the wetness, running her finger over it again, dragging her nail over the sensitive slit.

“Fuck, Felicity,” he choked out.

Oliver dropped his shirt, cupping her face, holding her still as he kissed her viciously. She moaned, opening everything for him, and he took advantage, plundering as she moved her hand over his cock where it was pressed between them. He jerked against her again, his hands tightening, and she squeezed him, forcing him to break away with a groan. He pushed his forehead to hers, his hips thrusting into her warm grip.

She breathed his air as he panted, mixing with frantic moans. His erection swelled, growing harder, and she moved her hand faster, squeezing him at the base.

“Oh god,” he moaned. Oliver titled her face up to his again, his lips slanting over hers. He slid one hand down, pushing it between her thighs and she spread them, letting him slip his fingers into her lacy thong.

The back of his fingers slid over her tender clit and she pulled back with a gasp, spreading her legs more and she swore she felt him grow harder in response.

“Look at me, Felicity,” he whispered. Her eyes flew to his. His lids were heavy, his eyes dark, and she knew in that instant they were still on the same page: it was too soon for more… but this…

They could do _this_. 

The instant they made that connection, he thrust his fingers into her. 

“Aah… Oliver,” she whimpered, her eyes fluttering but she couldn’t look away. He pulled his fingers out, and slowly pushed them back in, their eyes on each other. He did it again, slowly, his thumb sliding up in her juices, slicing over her clit, making her shudder. “Yes, yes… right there, there…”

It took her a moment to realize she’d stopped moving altogether, their eyes locked together, his fingers buried deep inside her. With a frenzied gasp, she licked her lips and took her entire fist up and over the head of his cock, squeezing slightly, making him hiss. She did it again, earning a low moan… and again.

His fingers started losing rhythm the faster she moved, and she thrust her hips against his hand, grinding against his fingers, chasing her own release. Neither of them heard the table squeaking where it rubbed on the floor, or the monitors creaking from the movements… they only heard their moans, their quickened breath, the rush of their blood in their ears, the pleasure building as they did what they’d only watched the other do…

Oliver suddenly choked out a groan.

He yanked his fingers out of her and his wet hand covered hers, moving her fist faster over him. He guided her, squeezing her hand tighter and tighter, his hips moving to meet their combined hands. Felicity watched his body start to tighten, his muscles clenching in anticipation, his jaw dropping in a silent cry… 

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, falling into her, digging his face into her shoulder as he thrust.

Felicity wrapped her arm around his shoulders, his free hand gripping her bare thigh painfully hard.

“Don’t stop, Oliver,” she whispered, and he whimpered, moving faster. “Come for me, come for me…”

He moved their combined fists in a blur, squeezing…

“Aaah, aahhh, Felicity, oh god, oh… Felicity…” Once, twice more, and then… “Felicity!”

Oliver came, spurting thick ropes of cum all over her. The warm liquid landed on her thighs, between her legs, on her shirt and skirt, and he kept rubbing, more coming out, covering her before he finally started to slow. He moaned, shuddering in her arms, his breathing hot on her chest, his forehead slick with sweat. He let go and she released him as he leaned against her, his half-erect cock sliding through his cum on her thigh…

The need thrumming in her body was starting to burn with veracity, but she ignored it, cradling him against her…If this was it, it was enough. The complete _surrender_ he’d given her, the utter trust he’d shown when he’d lost all control… Felicity sighed, nuzzling her nose against the side of his face, her fingers moving up to card through his hair.

He moved lethargically, his breathing starting to slow as he nuzzled her back. 

And then his hands slid down, hooking into her panties.

“Your turn,” he said, his voice so soft it was barely above a whisper.

“Oh,” she whispered, every inch of her burning to life with eagerness. She lifted herself, letting him tug her panties down as he kneeled before her.

They both watched the black lace smear through the mess he’d left on her.

“Sorry about that,” he said, a relaxed, dopey grin on his face and she grinned at the sight.

“Don’t be. I like it,” she replied and he paused, looking up at her, a new fire igniting in his eyes at her words.

Felicity sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, and his eyes slipped down to her mouth; she was surprised when she saw his cock twitch, already growing hard again.

Oliver slid her panties off, slipping them over her heels, dropping them on the floor at his feet. He ran his hands up her legs as he got on his knees, hooking her legs over his shoulders. His hands slipped up and over her thighs, his fingers slipping through his cum shamelessly…

“Oh god,” she moaned. The sight had the need burning inside her grow worse, and she whimpered, the urge to come drumming inside her until it was too much. Felicity gripped the back of his head, pushing his face closer and she thrust up against him, moaning, “Oliver, please, I need you to-”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Oliver’s tongue licked a long, hard trail up across her aching folds to her clit, making her yelp as he nailed her to the table, her ass slipping in the pool of juices from earlier.

“Aah!” she shouted, her back bowing, and Oliver didn’t give her a second to breathe.

He was relentless, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking, hard, and Felicity barely caught herself from falling backwards as he sucked and licked, teasing her clit with hard flicks that had her building quickly. He rubbed his stubble against her wet entrance, enhancing every movement he made, every lick, every taste, every touch… His fingers dug into her hip bones, keeping her down as he did what he wanted, as he tasted her…

Felicity gripped his hair in a tight fist, yearning towards him for more.

Oliver suddenly pushed his face into her, forcing her back an inch on the table, like he was thrusting his chin into her pulsing channel, and she gasped, clenching him closer.

“Oh god, don’t stop,” she babbled. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…” He did it again. “Oh, oh, oh…” Oliver flattened his tongue against her clit, licking it in long, hard strokes, digging his face into her harder and harder… “Ohgodohgodohgodoh… oh…”

Her pleasure peaked and Felicity stiffened on the precipice, her mindless cries filling the room.

Oliver scraped his front teeth down over her clit, and it shoved her over the edge.

Felicity came, a burst of white light exploding across her lids, her back bowing, a loud cry that felt and tasted like Oliver’s name echoing from deep inside her as she flew apart, her hips thrusting wildly, her nails digging into his scalp, the orgasm rolling through her, carrying her away…

Oliver’s gentle licks slowly brought her back down.

Felicity opened her eyes, feeling like someone had replaced all her blood with quicksand. She blinked, finding herself curled over him.

Oliver’s head was still between her legs, her thighs still thrown over his shoulders, his arms wrapped around her hips and he was pressing soft kisses to her mound, her thighs, his face wet with her juices…

“Oliver…” she whispered, her voice thick with exhausted pleasure, and she vaguely heard his quiet, “Shh.”

She wasn’t sure how it happened, or who moved first, but the next thing she was aware of was being curled up on the tiny cot Oliver still insisted on using, his large frame wrapped around her from behind, the gentle hiss of the steam and his steady breathing lulling her to sleep…

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the awesome response to these little ficlets, I'm so glad you guys are enjoying them!
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	6. Oliver & Felicity, Part 4/6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story #6 in my Mutual Release ficlets. Set in Season 2.5. The morning after…

Felicity woke to a heavy hand caressing her side.

She tried to blink herself awake, tried to remember where she was, but she felt like she’d just closed her eyes a moment ago. Sleep weighed her down, giving her no choice but to _feel_.

He moved slowly, lethargically, like he wanted to take his time, take as long as he needed to explore every inch of her. His fingers dipped over her ribs, running up under her arm and any cognizant thought was quickly swept away when his hand slid over her breast, cupping it gently. A tiny moan slipped out of her, and his hand tightened in response.

He gave her a breathless, “Felicity,” his body yearning towards hers, and then he flicked his thumb over her hardening nipple. She keened for him, desire whipping through her, gathering in the pit of her stomach as she started realizing the full ramifications of exactly where she was.

She was with Oliver.

She was in bed with Oliver; it was his hands tweaking her nipple, making her whimper, his hardening body behind her.

Her mind was moving too slowly, still bogged with sleep, trying to connect the dots.

They’d fallen asleep - _together_ \- after… 

A deep-seated flush rushed through her, warming her from the inside out, as she remembered their rushed kisses, the urgency burning the air between them. The second she’d realized what accepting this meant, she’d needed _more_ ; she’d needed to feel him, taste him, _have_ him. Felicity shivered, remembering how it’d felt finally wrapping her fingers around his erection, his hand covering hers, showing her just how to touch him… how it’d felt when he’d come all over her. She hadn’t been lying when she said she liked it, but it wasn’t just being covered in his essence, it was the abandon with which he’d come; he’d let go, giving her everything, and it had been.. 

_Everything._

And then he’d made her come so hard she’d literally seen stars. 

They’d both given in, finally, after so long of fighting it.

And she didn’t regret it.

_She didn’t regret it._

Anxious hope filled her chest as what that meant filled her sleep-addled mind.

They were in this, and it wasn’t just her…

It was both of them.

The promise of what that meant swept through her, leaving her lightheaded and dizzy.

_This was happening._

He abandoned her breast, slowly moving down…

Felicity’s lips parted in a panting moan and she held her breath as he slowly made his way down her abdomen. She grappled for something to hold on to, but there was nothing but air. Oliver was directly behind her, pressed right up against her on the tiny cot. He placed a wet kiss on her bare shoulder and she shivered.

She didn’t feel how twisted her top was, or how sticky her thighs were, or how very small the cot they laid on really was… all she felt were his fingers hooking under her skirt that had migrated back down after they’d fallen asleep, felt his nails scratching at her skin as he tugged it up, his eagerness to touch her in his every movement.

Felicity lifted her hips to help, biting her bottom lip when the chilled foundry air touched her damp sex.

He’d left her panties out in the main room.

Felicity hooked her leg back around his, opening herself up to him.

He let out a shaky breath, cupping her sex, making her shudder.

“Oliver…” She wrapped one hand around his wrist, the other fisting in the pillow as she arched towards him for more. His fingers slowly circled her clit, his middle finger dipping down into her growing wetness, spreading it all over. “Yes…”

She was in a foggy cloud, where the only thing that mattered was Oliver and what he was doing. Sensation washed through her, in gentle slow waves lapping at the sensitive edges of her mind.

Oliver slowly rolled his hips into hers and she felt the very hard evidence of his cock pressing right against her ass. He’d taken his jeans off, she realized, but still wore his boxers. They were thin, and he was so hot, pulsing against her… Felicity let go of his wrist and reached back, cupping the back of his neck, pressing his face closer as he moved; she thrust back, making the cot beneath them groan.

His finger touched her clit.

“Oh!” she yelped, a shock of knife-edged pleasure slicing through her. “Sensitive, sensitive…”

“Sorry,” he whispered, moving his fingers slowly again, tenderly. His gentle ministrations sent tiny sparks shooting through her body. His lips found her earlobe and he sucked it into his mouth, making her whine, before he nipped at it.

“I was thinking,” he said, his warm breath dancing over her wet skin; goosebumps erupted down her neck and shoulders. His hips still thrust lazily against her, pushing her against his hand. “About how hard you came earlier.”

Felicity whimpered.

“The beautiful sounds you made,” he said, his voice so low and breathy it tugged at her center. “I want to hear them again.”

“Oliver, please,” Felicity said, shaking her head, not sure if it was because she couldn’t possibly have another orgasm like that in her or because she needed it just as badly as he did.

He pressed his fingers against her wet entrance again, her juices coating him. He slipped the tip of a finger inside her, for just a second, before he pulled out and covered her clit.

“Ah!”

Felicity’s nails dug into the back of his head, but he didn’t relent, rubbing her gently. She whined his name as he slowly started to move with more fervor. Despite herself, despite the feeling that was it too much, that she was too sensitive, she spread her legs, arching off the cot.

“Oliver…”

“Come for me, Felicity,” he murmured, his voice deep with concentration. His beard scratched harshly at the back of neck, and she pushed back against him for more. He pressed his face into her hair, against her scalp and neck… 

“Oh god,” Felicity whimpered, clutching the pillow so tightly her nails ached. She held onto it and him, her hips rising to meet his hand as he rubbed her clit, moving faster and faster, his fingers so wet they glided right over it, heightening the sharp sensations starting to build within her. “Pleeeeasssee, Oliver, I can’t…”

“I want to hear you,” he grunted. “Felicity, I want to hear you again…”

“Oooh,” she moaned, her voice growing louder.

“More.”

Felicity didn’t feel his other arm slipping from under the pillow until it was underneath her where he banded it across her chest. His large hand grabbed her breast, kneading it, throwing the sensations inside her into overdrive as he moved his hand faster, rubbing her clit just like she did… just like she’d shown him…

“Oh god yes,” she gasped. “Please, please…”

Faster, faster…

Her cries grew louder, throatier, the release building inside her was almost too much, but she didn’t want him to stop.

“Don’t stop, don’t…”

“I want to hear you,” he whispered, his voice uneven with his harsh movements, both of their heavy pants filling the small cocoon they were in, echoing the squeaking groans of the cot. “Please…”

“Yes!” Felicity cried, all her concentration on his hand between her legs. It felt like a volcano building inside her, a burst of intense heat so hot she felt it scorching along her veins. She heard the moan-filled cries, barely aware it was her making them… 

It built, hotter and hotter…

“Oh god, oh god!” Felicity shouted, her hips stilling for a split second and Oliver’s hand moved faster. “Yes! Yes! I’m coming, I’m com-”

The heat inside her shattered and Felicity’s back bowed right off the cot, a deep cry filling the foundry. Wave after wave of blistering pleasure pulsed through her body. She undulated against his fingers, riding them, her hips jerking against his hand in sporadic thrusts. His fingers slid along the sides of her clit and he squeezed, making her entire body jerk with the violence of the aftershock it created.

Felicity fell back on the mattress with a gasp, her body slowly coming down, the heady pleasure leaving her thoroughly numb. 

“Oliver,” she breathed. “Oliver, Oliver…”

Oliver’s hand stayed between her legs, keeping her anchored.

“Oh god…” she breathed. “Wow…” 

He moved slowly, spreading his fingers through the hot juices starting to drip down her leg, and she whimpered pathetically, “Too much, too much,” moving to close her legs…

“Easy,” he whispered softly, pressing her leg back up, spreading her again… silently asking her permission.

Felicity opened for him, barely able to open her eyes, trusting him to do what he would. He spread her wet heat all over her thighs until they were slick, and he pressed her back onto her side, his arm still banded over her chest, cradling her from behind.

And then he shoved his boxers down, his cock popping free, and she felt his hot head spread a heavy bead of precum across her bare ass.

A shot of anticipation mixed with trepidation attacked her gut.

“Oliver?” she whispered. “Are you…”

Oliver’s hips thrust against her and her words choked off when his cock slid up between her cheeks.

“Felicity…” he groaned from deep within his chest, a soft curse slipping out. He moved against her again, like he couldn’t help himself, and she gasped, grabbing at the pillow, holding onto it as he thrust against her ass…

He was so close…

He just had to move down a little, change his angle, so he could thrust into her.

Felicity wanted to want to stop him. She did. It was too soon, this shouldn’t be how it happened, they shouldn’t… it would be too much.

What if it ruined everything they’d spend the last few years building?

What if it didn’t work out?

What if he… 

Felicity wanted to care, she wanted to pay heed to the silent fears running in the back of her mind, but she didn’t.

Because she just didn’t _care_.

Just like she hadn’t cared when she’d touched herself outside his room, when he’d smelled her arousal on her fingers in the kitchen the next morning; just like when she’d asked him to touch himself and she’d wanted nothing more than to walk over and climb on top of him and take him deep inside her…

But it had been too soon.

Right?

Too much, too soon…

Oliver sighed, and grasped himself and Felicity tightened in anticipation.

Her inner walls _clenched_ with the need to feel him _inside her_.

“Yes,” she whispered, prepared to feel his cock sliding through her wetness, over her tender clit, her juices coating him before he…

But he didn’t do that.

Instead, he pushed himself between her very wet thighs and she suddenly remembered that he had spread her wetness before and now she knew why.

He didn’t…

He wasn’t…

Felicity’s eyes snapped open at the realization… and was shocked when a thin sheen of tears blurred her vision as a deep well of disappointment and sadness - _rejection_ \- abruptly carved a hole in her chest.

He wasn’t…

No, _this_ was what they wanted, what they both wanted… this is what they had been doing, because it was the only thing they _could_ do.

But…

Her mind flashed back to when she’d come downstairs earlier, the look on his face… how he’d grabbed her without a second’s pause, yanked her into his arms, kissed her with so much reckless passion that everything inside her had tingled…

They’d given in, they’d chosen…

Hadn’t they?

Felicity shoved down the foolishness rising in her chest and instead spread her legs for him. This moment, that’s what this was about, _this moment_. She couldn’t deal with the black hole of confusion and need and emotions she didn’t want to name starting to swirl inside her.

His cock slid between her wet thighs, getting caught for a moment and she spread them wider, letting him thrust all the way in.

Felicity gasped at the sensation, at the tug he created between her thighs, on her sex, letting the sensations take over.

It was different, in a very good way. She’d never done this before, never used any other part of her body for this…

Felicity ignored the way her sex clenched rhythmically, ignored the urge to flip over and lift her leg, let him slide in, ignored all of it because that wasn’t what this was.

“Oh god, Felicity,” Oliver moaned, bringing her back to him, his hand gripping her hip. “Close your legs… can you…”

Felicity squeezed her thighs shut and his fingers dug into her hip bone. She squeezed hard, clenching his cock between her wet thighs and he slowly pulled back before thrusting in again. A noise she’d never heard echoed from his throat, his head falling onto her shoulder, his forehead digging into her shoulder blade as he started a soft, uneven thrusting.

“Oliver,” she whispered. She reached behind her, gripping his hip as he thrust his cock between her thighs. “Yes.”

“Feli… city,” he hissed. “God, you… you feel so good, so fucking good…”

“Yes,” she replied, nodding, thrusting back, squeezing him again and he moaned, and she let the sound anchor her to the moment, to him, to what he was feeling, to how he felt sliding against her. “Yes, don’t stop… don’t stop…”

He didn’t.

He kept thrusting, his cock sliding between her wet thighs, and she felt herself responding. Her wetness seeped out, drenching her thighs even more, making them more slick, giving him more to… fuck her.

The thought sent a course of need surging through her, the meaning of it not lost on her…

Because he hadn’t gone any further than this.

Oliver’s pelvis started slapping against her ass, the sound filling the room, playing off his growing moans and deep growls.

“Fuck me, Oliver,” she whispered and he let out an agonized cry. “Do it, fuck me…”

“Oh… god,” he moaned, his hips moving faster. He gripped her hip tighter, his fingers digging into her so hard she knew she’d have bruises come morning, but she delighted in it, urging him on, digging hers into his him. “Felicity… Felicity…”

“Oliver,” she choked out, her voice cracking. “Don’t stop…”

“Oh god, oh Felicity,” Oliver yelped, his back bowing, his thrusts growing harder, slamming into her from behind. “Yes, Felicity, I’m…”

Oliver thrust all the way in with a sharp cry and he came all over her, again, his cum coating her thighs.

Felicity looked down, watching him come between her legs, watching the thick white liquid spurt out of him, onto her, onto the cot and onto the floor… 

He was marking her…without claiming her.

Felicity shut her eyes, biting the tip of her tongue as Oliver moaned her name again, nuzzling his face into her shoulder, his erratic breathing hitting her sweat-covered skin, making her shiver…

They didn’t move for a long moment, and Felicity found herself only able to concentrate on his strong arm wrapped around her, his chest pressed against her back, his breathing starting to slow and how it blew on her hair, tickling her skin… and the warmth of his cum starting to dry on her thighs.

Anything else was… too much.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, not moving, but she eventually felt his breathing even out, become more steady… and then his arm grew slack.

He was asleep.

Felicity bit her tongue again, shaking her head.

What was she doing? What the hell was she doing?

She knew better.

 _She knew better_.

Oh god, she should have left earlier… she should have driven home, taken care of herself, avoided this _entire thing_. She knew - _she knew_ \- what would happen, it had been the entire point of them avoiding each other, but… 

But she hadn’t been able to. God, it’d been like something inside her just woke up last night, snapping to life the instant she’d given in, and she hadn’t been able to stop herself from wanting more… and taking it.

Except there was nothing to take.

This was… this.

It wasn’t anything else.

_It couldn’t be._

She felt like someone had just opened her chest and removed her heart with rusty forceps.

Something that had started out so simply, so innocently even, was suddenly morphing into so much more. She knew she’d had feelings for him, that it was something past platonic, but this…

This was too much.

To have him, but not _have_ him?

Felicity moved slowly.

She unwrapped his arm and lifted herself off the cot, ignoring the way his cum slid down her legs. He sighed, and she paused, her heart stopping when he moved, but he didn’t wake. He reached for her, for the space she had been in, but when he didn’t find her, he grabbed onto the pillow instead.

Felicity forced herself to turn away, not giving herself a moment to think.

She couldn’t.

Felicity made her way to the bathroom and cleaned herself up, not looking in the mirror. She righted her clothes, knowing that this outfit was a definite goner. It was covered in cum, both wet and dry, from both of them; it wasn’t worth the effort to clean. 

She didn’t want to keep it.

Felicity felt the irrational urge to take it off right then and there and throw it away.

Ignoring the deep churning in her chest, she emptied her bladder, cleaning up the mess between her thighs as best she could. She spent a few minutes righting her hair and washing her hands. Still avoiding the mirror, she wiped at her eyes until no more smeared mascara and eyeliner came off.

She could only imagine what she looked like.

She had to get out of there.

Oliver was waiting for her when she opened the door.

“Oh,” she said, pausing. He’d fixed himself up as much as he could. He’d found his jeans again - they looked nearly as bad as her skirt - and a clean shirt. “You’re awake.”

He smiled softly. “You weren’t there.”

“I was a little messy,” Felicity said with a tight smile. 

Oliver actually _blushed_ , ducking his head.

Felicity had to look away, the intimacy in his response too much. “I’m gonna go.” 

Oliver froze. “What?”

“I’m gonna go. Home.” The forced levity in her tone was like a chain wrapped around her neck. “You know, where the clean clothes live. Do you know where my shoes are? I didn’t see them by the, uh, cot.” 

“Felicity, I don’t…” He took a step towards her. “Don’t you want to at least… talk?”

“I think anything past ‘we just did that and it was very nice’ is sort of redundant, don’t you think?”

“Felicity-” 

“Oliver, let’s not make this a thing.” He frowned. “If we make it a thing, it becomes a thing that we have to… make, and… What I’m trying to say is it happened, and if it happens again, great, and if it doesn’t… great. Let’s not complicate it.”

Oliver stared at her, and Felicity had to ignore the burning desire to fidget under his scrutiny.

Ever since that morning in her kitchen, his gaze on her had changed - there was more knowledge than before, more understanding, something deeper… and he was trying to use to see _more_.

It was surprisingly easy to shove the feelings that had been overwhelming her a moment ago down - out of sight, out of mind. The moment of weakness she’d felt earlier, when she’d been ready to throw everything out the window and let anything happen, was gone, replaced with an odd numbness. The more she spoke, the more she darkened the lines they weren’t going to cross. This was the right thing to do, for both of them. Anything past _this_ … anything past what they’d just done, anything that took it to the next level, that cemented whatever had grown between them…

It couldn’t happen.

There was too much at risk to go any further.

Whatever he saw in her eyes was his confirmation.

“So… what,” Oliver said skeptically. “We’re… friends, with fringe benefits?”

The words walloped her in the chest and she did a fine job not showing it.

“I…” Felicity forced herself to smile brightly, nodding. “If we’re gonna call it something, sure.”

He furrowed his brow, taking a step towards her. “Felicity, I don’t-” 

“Oliver, stop,” Felicity said, shaking her head. “I don’t wanna make this a thing, okay? I want to go home. And shower. And go to bed. Okay?”

“Felicity…” Oliver opened his mouth, but nothing came. He had nothing to say… and that was just the way it should be. His jaw snapped shut and he gave her a little nod. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Felicity was moving for him before she knew what she was doing, and by the time she realized it she was already at his side, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. He almost - _almost_ \- turned to catch her lips with his, but he stopped himself, pinching his lips into a thin line, his eyes fixed on something over her shoulder when she looked up at him.

“My shoes?”

“Your desk.”

Felicity found them, lying underneath her jacket on the ground. Her keys were still in her jacket pocket and she pulled them out after slipping it on, turning to see Oliver standing in the space between their two chairs, his hands loose at his sides, his eyes unreadable as he watched her get ready.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, heading for the stairs.

“Yeah. Bye.”

Felicity waited until she was several blocks away from the foundry to let the single hot tear burn a path down her cheek.

It was the only one she allowed herself. 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was originally going to be more in this ficlet, but the emotional scope of this little series grew on me, so I split it. I wanted to try a different angle, explore a different side of Olicity, and that required a bit more space and time. And still, a few ficlets isn’t enough to fully grasp it - I hope it still came across well enough!
> 
> Two more parts planned!
> 
> Thank you for the response to this little series, I'm so glad you guys are enjoying them!
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	7. Oliver & Felicity, Part 5/6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story #7 in my Mutual Release ficlets. Set in Season 2.5. It’s been a week since Felicity defined their relationship, a week of strained silences only deepening the chasm between them... but they can’t stay away from each other for long.

A soft sigh caught his attention.

He knew that sound as intimately as he knew his own, what had to be happening to create it, how she looked when she made it - how her lips parted, her skin flushed, her eyes fluttered shut, that tiny little furrow between her brows growing deeper when she was about to…

Oliver turned towards her before he could stop himself, his body reacting to the sound instinctively, and Diggle took complete advantage, slamming his escrima stick right into the back of Oliver’s thigh.

The whip of pain snapped through him like lava and his leg nearly gave out from underneath him.

“Son of a… fu…” Oliver clamped his jaw shut and glared at his sparring partner.

“A little distracted?” Diggle asked with a knowing grin and Oliver’s glare deepened before he swung his own sticks up. It was a practiced move, one that Diggle knew well over his years of training with Oliver, but there were still a few things Diggle refused to budge on. Namely…

Oliver faked him out twice before letting the stick slip down his hand and he flicked his wrist, nailing the stick straight into Diggle’s shin as hard as he could.

“Damn it!” Diggle growled, dropping his sticks, limping backwards, his eyes hot on Oliver’s face. “You didn’t have to prove your point that damn hard.” 

“Sorry,” Oliver murmured, his eyes sliding back to Felicity. She’d already turned away from them, leaning over her computers, tapping out a few more commands as she finished up preparations for the mission that night. The sound of her typing filled the space her little sigh had left behind.

He knew what he’d heard.

She’d been watching.

Felicity’s fingers froze on the keyboard, like she could feel his gaze on her, but she didn’t turn around. Oliver bit the tip of his tongue, willing her to turn, but when she didn’t - when her shoulders stiffened and she instead turned to her tablet - Oliver finally turned away from her.

Diggle stood in the middle of the mats, watching him watch her, that stupid smile on his face, and that only annoyed him more.

One week.

It had been one week since the night they’d gone to the Diggle’s for dinner, since they’d come back to the foundry and dove headfirst into whatever it was that was happening between them. Oliver didn’t have a name for it; what had started out as an accidental happenstance had quickly spiraled into way, way more, leaving him struggling to keep his head above water when he wanted nothing more than to let it all sweep him up and away.

Except she didn’t.

“I’m gonna get going,” Felicity said, and Oliver looked back at her. She studiously avoided his gaze, her eyes sweeping over him in acknowledgement before resting on Diggle. “I’ve got a little more prep to do on that bluff.”

“We’ll be right behind you,” Diggle said and Felicity nodded, giving him a smile. She hadn’t given Oliver a smile that didn’t look painful or forced in days. “Be careful.” 

“I am the queen of careful,” she said, heading towards the stairs and then she paused. “Not a queen. I’m not a queen… of anything really. Unless you count the old Chinese takeout in my fridge, which could lead directly back to being the queen of careful because it’s been in there so long, although that negates the whole ‘not a queen’ thing… and I’m doing the tired babbling thing, which I’m stopping. In three, two…” She pointed at her ear. “My com’s in.”

“Okay,” Diggle replied, on the verge of a chuckle, and Felicity nodded again, her eyes never touching on Oliver before she turned to leave. Diggle waited for her to get out of earshot before he said, “Not that I’m enjoying the Oliver and Felicity Show, but this is getting ridiculous.”

Oliver stared blandly at him.

“What happened with you two?”

“Nothing,” Oliver said lowly, hearing the sound of the door upstairs opening and the clack of her heels as she made her way to her Mini, the door slamming shut behind her. He stalked past Diggle, tossing his sticks near the closet where they were stored. “Just an off week.”

“You guys don’t have off weeks,” Diggle said.

“We do now,” Oliver said, giving him a tight smile before heading towards the glass case that held his suit. He pulled it off the mannequin, heading towards the back to change. He heard Diggle huff, saying something under his breath before he moved to get ready himself.

One week.

One week since she’d had her fingers wrapped around his dick, since she’d been squirming with the need to come and he’d gotten to taste her - _finally_. And god, she had tasted _so good_ ; he’d wanted nothing more than to stay between her soft thighs - feel them quaking against his face, her muscles clenching and unclenching - for the rest of the night. But then she’d whined, thrusting up into his mouth…

_“Oh god. Oliver, please, I need you to-”_

Oliver had devoured her, and she’d come so beautifully loud under his tongue, her juices gushing out, coating his face, dripping down his chin. Her grip had been strong, her fist tugging at his hair, her body shaking with the aftershocks before she’d collapsed, trusting him to be there to catch her, to hold her. She’d been so tired, barely cognizant through the wine she’d drank along with her orgasm… 

So he’d taken her back to his cot.

For the first time ever he wished he’d taken the time to buy a real goddamn bed, but they made it work, and they’d slept - _soundly_. He’d only woken up when he realized that the warm woman pressed tightly up against him wasn’t a dream, that Felicity was really there… he hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d made her come again, her tender flesh quivering under his fingers, so slick and wet with her arousal, loving that her clit was so sensitive because of him, because of what he’d done to her.

The sounds she’d made…

Oliver hadn’t really even thought about what would - rather, what _should_ have happened next. His cock had been hard, straining against her lush ass. He’d already been grinding against her, feeling the familiar pressure building inside, but he’d wanted _more_. He’d needed more.

Oliver could still feel the slickness of her juices leaking between his fingers, coating his hand as he’d spread her legs, and she’d let him - the trust she gave him, so easily and without an ounce of hesitation was like a drug in and of itself. The same overwhelming emotion that had filled his chest that night resonated inside him again as he got dressed, remembering how wet she’d been, how he’d spread her own juices all over her thighs…

She’d been so wet, so creamy, so…

“Fuck,” Oliver whispered, tucking his hardening dick into his leather pants. Well that was going to be an uncomfortable running partner tonight. It didn’t help that he’d only had his hand to relieve the tension that seemed to live under his skin ever since he’d smelled her fingers in the kitchen that morning, since she’d stared up at him with her guileless eyes, those perfect lips parted in a quickening breath…

Oliver yanked the zipper up.

_Later_.

But his mind wasn’t done. It remembered too well how she’d opened up for him, spreading herself, and he’d thrust between her thighs, giving him just a taste of what it would be like to thrust into _her_. It had been that thought, the thought of angling just enough, thrusting up and into her, filling her, feeling those tight walls clamping down around him that had carried him to completion, and he’d come all over her _again_ …

Oliver groaned, shaking his head, his dick twitching at the memory.

He’d come all over her, and she’d reveled in it. It was a heady thought, doing that at all, but the look in her eye, the sight of her covered…

But then something had _changed_.

The shitty mood Oliver had been living in since that night spiraled even further down the drain. He’d woken up alone, in his own mess, Felicity nowhere to be found. He’d found his clothes and followed the noises she was making in the bathroom, grateful she hadn’t left, but when she’d come out, something had been… _off_.

And then she’d shut him out, completely.

_“Oliver, let’s not make this a thing. If we make it a thing, it becomes a thing that we have to… make, and… What I’m trying to say is it happened, and if it happens again, great, and if it doesn’t… great. Let’s not complicate it.”_

He was still reeling from it, and like a total jackass he hadn’t opened his mouth; she’d caught him completely off guard.

_“Let’s not complicate it.”_

He’d wanted to talk, to figure out what they were, what they were becoming; he wasn’t sure exactly what they would’ve talked about, what they would have concluded, but it definitely wouldn’t have been _that_.

Had he gone too fast?

Had it been too much, too intimate, too close to the real thing, the thing that he found himself _needing_ , almost as much as his body needed air.

Had he scared her off?

He’d let the moment get away from, let himself go too far… she’d felt so damned good, he’d been mindless in his need to touch her.

One week, and they still hadn’t talked, and they hadn’t done anything else either.

Oliver was on _edge_ , and having to be around her all the damned time, seeing her apparently handling their lack of anything so much better than he was made it worse. It wasn’t one-sided, he knew it wasn’t one-sided, but the way she was acting… Oliver knew what he’d heard, knew that tiny little sigh, the same sigh she made when their lips parted after a heated kiss, when his fingers found her hard little clit, when he bent her over a table, rubbing himself against her…

The thought of Felicity’s eyes on him while he sparred was intoxicating.

_“What else is a girl to do when you walk around shirtless all the time?”_

So what the hell were they doing?

“Oliver, the meet time is coming up, let’s roll,” Diggle shouted, jerking him out of his thoughts where he stood with his leathers undone, his jacket in hand, staring at the cot… 

At the white stain on the edge of it.

“Oliver?”

“Yeah, coming,” Oliver yelled back, his eyes on the spot as he shrugged his jacket on.

He had to talk to her. He had to do _something_.

Oliver met Diggle in the main room, quickly snapping his artillery on, fixing his quiver over his shoulder and grabbing his bow. Diggle handed him his com before they jogged up the stairs, Diggle to the van and Oliver to his bike to head to their designated stakeout spots.

Talk. At least talk about it, because having to listen to Felicity over the com was going to be _torture_ \- she always filled the empty space of waiting during stakeouts with chit-chat, asking questions, filling them in about something she’d learned that day, or something she thought they could use to make their work easier; basically anything that came to mind, and usually he looked forward to it, but not tonight.

Not after knowing how her voice sounded when she was telling him to not stop when his fingers were in her pants, or how husky it was after she came, how she sounded begging him, how she gasped and sighed and…

“Fuck,” Oliver whispered again as he started his bike, gritting his teeth.

He vaguely heard Diggle asked if he was okay as he revved the engine and took off. 

*

Five long, excruciating hours later, Felicity got the window to take down the security system from her spot on the bluff overlooking the compound and Oliver and Diggle infiltrated the building, finding their guy. They got the info they needed on who was bringing the firearms into the city, and they found a healthy underground heroin operation in another section that they called Starling City’s best in on.

It was a success. Oliver should be happy, and he was… until he heard Felicity’s, “I’ve gotta get going, guys, the slave driver has me scheduled for the opening shift tomorrow,” and his shitty mood was back in an instant. It only got worse when she clicked her com off right after Diggle said goodnight.

When Diggle offered to drop him off at his bike, Oliver declined in what he thought was a pleasant enough voice, but the look Diggle sent him said otherwise. Oliver’s chagrined, “Sorry,” was met with a, “Just hash this shit out, man,” before Diggle took off, the van’s taillights disappearing in the sea of dust the tires kicked up. 

By the time he made it back to his bike, the tension was radiating off him. Oliver hooked his bow on the handlebars and straddled the bike, clenching his jaw rhythmically as he took a deep breath.

It only made the knot in his gut tighter.

After a long second, Oliver glanced at the bluff where she was supposed to be stationed. It was completely dark, not that he’d be able to see anything anyway; they’d talked about where to park so she could get in and out without anyone seeing her from the compound. It had been the only place that was close enough while still being far away enough if something bad happened where she could gain access via the proximity she needed.

She was probably heading home, to get ready for bed… to strip off the bright yellow dress she’d been wearing, to unhook those strappy black and red heels… she’d let them dangle from her fingers as she made her way to her bedroom. She’d pull her side zipper down, tossing her shoes into her closet as she revealed the silky white skin, a stark contrast to the bright blue lace bra that he could already feel if he were there, helping her slip out of the dress, running his hands up her sides, feeling her goosebumps under his fingers…

A flash of light on the bluff caught his eye, and it was gone before he knew what he’d seen.

Oliver frowned, wondering if he’d imagined it, when he heard something on the other end of the com.

A sigh.

_Her sigh._

Oliver froze, his ears straining for more.

Was she still up there? Was that light from her car, was she…

Felicity _moaned_ , so soft and sweet and subtle that Oliver wouldn’t have heard it had he not been paying attention. And then she moaned again, a little louder, and his entire body tightened. She was still up there, it hadn’t been enough time for her to move, to have made it home already…

She had to still be up there… was she touching herself?

“Oliver…”

His heart stopped as everything inside him responded to her breathy whisper… his name, it was his name she was calling out, him she was thinking about… 

“Felicity,” he replied without thinking, closing his eyes.

Her shocked gasp had them snapping back open.

“Oh my god,” Felicity yelped, her voice cracking and Oliver heard her quick movements on the other side. “Oliver? Are you… oh my god, this stupid com, it didn’t… turn off, oh my god this is-”

“Don’t stop,” Oliver said, cutting her off. Silence met him as he continued, “Whatever you were doing, don’t… don’t stop.”

It was a long, long moment before she whispered, “What?”

“Don’t stop. Please. I need… I haven’t heard…” Oliver closed his eyes, bowing his head, leaning forward on his handlebars. His voice was strained as he looked up towards the bluff again, and said, “Please, Felicity.”

“What do you…” She paused, and he could hear her moving again, getting situated before she whispered, “What do you want me to do?”

“What were you doing?” he asked throatily.

“I was…” She paused again, and he waited. He would always wait. If this is what he was able to get, if this was all he was able to get, then he would wait forever for that tiny moment, that small taste. “I was… touching myself.”

Oliver closed his eyes, imagining her in her car. “How?”

“My fingers… in my panties.”

She sounded unsure and Oliver was one hundred percent sure he needed to shut his goddamned mouth and leave her alone, but he didn’t.

God help him, he didn’t want to. 

“Are you wet?”

“Yes,” she whispered and he groaned, bowing his head again.

“Touch yourself.” Oliver made tight fists and leaned forward on the bike, delighting in the tight tug of his leathers as he strained against them, rubbing against the seat slightly. “Touch your clit.” Her voice hitched when he said that - in desire, in _need_ \- and he squeezed his eyes shut, listening to her breathing grow heavier. “Talk to me, Felicity.”

“Oliver… I’m… I’m touching my clit…”

“Yes…”

“I’m thinking about your… mouth… on me. How you… tasted me, before… how much I needed you to touch me… oh god, Oliver, I needed you so badly-” She broke off in a heavy whine and Oliver bit his tongue. “Oliver…”

“You tasted so good,” Oliver rasped, thrusting in his seat again without thinking, seeking his own friction. “And you were so responsive; god, you were so responsive, I wanted to eat you out all night, lick your clit until you were begging me to stop…”

“Ooohh,” she whimpered, and he could hear the changes in her voice, the arousal building in her. “Yes… Oliver…”

Oliver groaned, and cupped himself through his pants; he didn’t feel nearly as much as he needed to through his glove and the leather, but it was enough.

“Use your fingers, put your fingers inside yourself,” he gritted out, rubbing himself harder.

She whispered something incoherent, and he had the perfect image of her sitting in her car up on that bluff, her legs spread open, her fingers inside her panties, her back arching off the seat as she thrust her fingers into herself, filling herself… her fingers where he wanted to be, where he _needed_ to be…

His cock strained in his pants, swelling under his hand at the thought of being near her, touching her, _anything_ …

_Fuck it._

“Are you still on the bluff?” he asked roughly and he started the bike, her response getting lost in the sudden roar. “Felicity?”

“Yeah… I’m still up here.” 

“I’m coming up there.” Oliver spun the bike, kicking up dust and gravel and then he was off. 

“Wait, are you, uh…” Felicity cleared her throat, and he heard the movement of her clothes as she shifted. “Is that a good idea?”

Oliver eased up on the gas.

It would take him only a few minutes to reach her, and they both knew it.

“Do you not want me to?” he asked quietly, the bike slowing to a stop at the main road. Oliver stared at the pavement, the street empty, concentrating on every little sound coming from her side.

“I, uh…”

Her hesitation was like glass grating inside his veins. “Felicity, I didn’t mean to-” 

“No. I mean, I do,” Felicity said, and the tight anticipation that had started to ease out of his body whipped through him in a sharp arc, leaving him aching as she whispered, “Come, come up here. I need you. God, I’ve needed you-”

The engine let out a loud roar as he took off.

He reached her in barely a minute.

Oliver spotted her car instantly, tucked exactly where they had planned, the dull light from her dashboard highlighting her face. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back, her lips parted in a pant; her chest was heaving, her shoulders moving as she touched herself.

He listened to her breathy moans over the com, watching her from afar, hearing her pleasure herself in his ear, her voice hitching as she got closer and closer…

Her eyes open when he pulled in closer and she looked at him, lids hooded, lips glossy… and then she licked those goddamn lips, looking so perfectly wanton and gorgeous that he nearly came right then. Oliver groaned, barely parking the bike and getting the kickstand out before he was off and headed towards her car. He yanked his hood and mask off, tossing his gloves aside as she sat up. She opened her door, using the edges of her hands to pull herself out of the car, the moonlight making her fingers gleam from her juices…

“Oliver,” she said, his name coming out in that beautiful breathy sigh, and he groaned. They crashed together, their mouths connecting with a clash of teeth and lips that was both painful and addicting.

Oliver shoved her back against the side of her Mini, his hands slipping around her waist to hoist her off the ground. She gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist, her wet fingers gripping his shoulders, slipping on the green leather. He could smell her, just like before, the scent of her arousal, and it only drove him more insane with need. Desire coursed through his veins, urging him on…

Oliver anchored her against the car, kissing her harder, making her whimper and whine underneath him.

He was insatiable. He _needed_ her; he’d been needing her, and he’d been constantly denied, unable to touch her, barely able to look at her…

Felicity pulled back, desperate for air, and Oliver attacked her throat, his lips and tongue striking out a path down to her pulse point where he sucked on the delicate flesh. She cried out, arching into him for more, her hand slipping to the back of his head, pushing him closer. Oliver hiked her up higher, his hands dropping down to her thighs to push them further around him as he thrust up against her.

“Yes!” she panted, the dark night swallowing up her cries. He did it again, and again, almost violently, shoving her up against the side of the car in his urgency, imagining her wetness smearing all over the front of his pants, her desire for _him_. “Yes, yes…! Oliver, Oliver…”

“Yes,” Oliver whispered at the sound of her breathless voice moaning his name. He shivered when she did it again.

“Oh god, please, please,” she whispered mindlessly, her body undulating against him, rubbing as much of herself against him as she could reach, her body jerking with each sensation, like her nerves were frayed and sensitive, and all it would take was one stroke…

He gripped her tight with one hand and slid his other between them, pushing her panties out of the way. Her panties were soaked through, her thighs slick, her sex throbbing with need. Oliver pressed a finger inside her, and she keened. He added a second… and then a third, pressing them up as far as he could, her warmth sucking him in, already pulsing around him. She was so smooth, so perfectly silken, clenching around him, and Oliver pulled them out and thrust them back in.

Felicity babbled incoherently, his name littered throughout, her voice growing louder as he finger-fucked her. She held onto him, her legs tightening around him, her head falling back…

Oliver leaned back to watch her face as he moved his hand faster, pushing her higher. He thrust his hips against his hand, giving his finger thrusts more force, making the car rock, imitating what he really wanted to do to her, how he really wanted to fill her…

She started trembling, her fingers digging into him.

Oliver changed the angle on his hand so his thumb could reach her clit and the second he grazed it, her grip on him changed, her voice hitching. It echoed off the sky-high walls of mountainous hills next to the road, her voice bouncing off them and back out into the empty space around the bluff.

He stroked her again, and again, the sharp cries falling from her growing louder.

Oliver _wanted_ someone to hear her, hear how she sounded as he got her off.

“Yes, yes, yes… Right there, right there, don’t stop, please… don’t stop… Oliver, Oliver… Oliver!” 

“Come for me,” Oliver rumbled. He watched her face, her skin flushing in the low light, her mouth parting in a silent scream as she bucked against him, the car rocking. “Come for me, Felicity, come on my fingers, come for me…”

“Ah, ah, ah, aaahhh, oh god!”

Her body jerked against him, her hips moving faster against his hand as the orgasm plowed through her. Her hands slid up to the back of his head, her blunt nails digging into his scalp, her inner walls clenching around his fingers, her clit trembling, her juices flooding his fingers, coating his hand…

“Aahh, oh god, oh god,” she whimpered before her body went limp.

Oliver pinned her to the car, his hand slipping out of her to grab her leg, to keep her from slipping out of his grasp. The cool night air danced over his wet fingers and Oliver buried his face in her throat, listening to her heart racing, her breathing erratic.

She hummed her satisfaction, wrapping her arms around him.

Neither of them moved… until Oliver’s hips started moving of their own volition.

Felicity moaned when he rubbed his hard cock, straining for freedom inside his pants, against her hot core.

Oliver wasn’t sure how it happened, but one second he was holding her, and the next she was unwinding herself and slipping down to her knees.

“Felicity?” he managed, but her hands were already undoing the buttons of his pants, shoving the leather open.

There was no preamble, no waiting, as she pulled his boxers down enough for his hard cock to pop free, and then her mouth was around the head and all coherent thought swept out of his head.

“Oh… shit,” he hissed, his head falling back, his hands slipping through her hair. He pushed his fingers through the tight strands of her ponytail, pulling it loose, digging his fingers deeper into the beautiful blonde mess. Felicity’s tongue swirled around him and without warning she moved lower, taking as much of him as she could inside her hot, perfect mouth. “Oh god… Felicity… oh… god.”

Oliver kept one hand in her hair, pushing his fingers through it to cup the back of her head, and braced himself against the car, towering over her, giving himself the perfect view of her face as she sucked him off. He moaned brokenly, gasping her name as she worked him, taking him a little deeper with each bob of her head, swirling her tongue over him, tightening her lips.

She splayed one hand across his pelvis, her thumb hooking under his shaft while her other reached inside his boxers and grasped his balls. She squeezed and Oliver cursed - loudly - nearly thrusting all the way before he stopped himself.

She must have felt his restraint because Felicity pulled back, releasing the head of his cock with a loud pop.

The cool air wrapped around his wet dick as she licked her lips - Oliver’s eyes nearly crossed at the sight - and looked up at him.

“It’s okay,” she said huskily. Her fingers wrapped around the base of his cock as she said, “I want you to.”

“Felicity… I don’t… want to…” He could barely fucking _think_ , much less speak, especially when twisted her fingers around his shaft at the same time as she squeezed his balls again. “Fuck, Felicity.”

“It’s okay,” she said again, nodding in encouragement. Her eyes never left his as she guided his cock back into her mouth, and the sensation of her hot tongue swirling over him in combination with the cool night air made his hips surge forward. She nodded, her eyes still locked with his, and then she took him in _deep_.

And he was done.

Oliver fisted her hair, leaning her back until she was flush with the car and he started thrusting shallowly into her mouth. She moaned, the vibrations rocketing through him.

He watched her, watched her lips tightening as she started sucking more and more with each thrust, and he started losing more and more control as his pleasure mounted.

Her mouth felt so fucking good, her tongue working him, her moans vibrating, her fingers starting to rub the base of his shaft in quick, even strokes, her other hand grasping at his balls, tugging on them…

“Oh god, Felicity, that is… that’s… don’t stop…”

The tight coil of pleasure in the base of his spine grew hotter, and his thrusts grew a little wilder, pushing into her mouth a little deeper… 

He gripped her hair tightly and she leaned back against the car as the head of his cock touched the back of her throat. She moaned, and he told himself to back off, vaguely realizing what the hell he was doing, but she tightened her lips, sucking _harder_ , and he cried out… Oliver’s hips moved faster, his eyes on her lips, watching his cock disappearing between them.

Felicity dragged her teeth over his shaft, “Felicity!” and when he pulled out, she swirled her tongue rapidly over the sensitive head, her teeth digging in just enough before he thrust back between her teeth, the perfect amount of pleasure-pain stoking the burn inside him. He choked out a desperate moan and gripped her head harder, thrusting into her mouth, her teeth and tongue and heat and fingers…

Oliver came with a loud shout, spurting into her mouth, and she swallowed every last bit of it. The sensation of her throat convulsing, her tongue coaxing more out of him, made him spasm with pleasure, his hips jerking against her face until there was nothing left.

Oliver slumped over, his cock slipping from her lips. He opened his eyes in time to see her tucking him back into his boxers and pants, licking her lips, her tongue sneaking out to lick the side of her mouth. He whimpered under his breath, and shivered when she pressed a chaste kiss to him through the leather before she stood up.

Felicity brushed off her knees, yanking her yellow dress back into place, a tiny smile on her puffy lips.

Oliver watched her lazily, and when she turned to him with that small, content smile, he acted on pure instinct, grabbing her, crushing her against his chest, his lips finding hers. 

Felicity sighed, wrapping herself around him, and he shifted just enough to have her pushed back against the car, his entire length pressed against her.

The kiss was lazy, gentle and languid, and he tasted the sharp tang of himself on her tongue, and he wanted more. He deepened the kiss, and she returned every inch of it.

“Mmm,” Felicity moaned, humming against his lips as the kiss slowly turned into softer, chaste ones.

“Felicity,” he whispered, kissing her once more before pulling back to look at her. He smiled. “Hi.”

Felicity blushed, chuckling, and something deep in his chest dropped at the endearing sight. “Hi.”

Now… now was the time. There was more, so much more, but in that moment… it could wait, for just a second, as he took her in. His Felicity. The moon had slipped behind a thin wisp of clouds, but he could still see the light flush on her cheeks, her swollen lips, the satisfied haze in her eyes as she stared back at him… Her skin was a light pink, matching the silky blouse she’d worn the day before, but he could see the darkening edges, the hint of more, and he knew that having her lips wrapped around him had left her wanting all over again…

It was easy, for that split second, to see nothing else but this, the way she was right then, in his arms, both of them contented… Nothing else existed but this moment, this tiny bubble that was theirs and theirs alone.

“You’re staring,” she whispered, her words matching her soft smile.

Oliver smiled, and leaned in again, tipping his nose against hers, urging her lips towards his. He groaned when she met him halfway, just as quietly eager as he was. The kiss was subtle and perfect, precious… and it slowly grew into more. Oliver slid his tongue along the loose seam of her mouth, begging entrance, and she opened just enough, just enough for him to get a taste. Oliver sighed, pressing his tongue in, needing more, feeling like they hadn’t just kissed each other senseless a moment ago, like she hadn’t come around his fingers or she hadn’t dragged those teeth down his length.

This moment, that was all that mattered.

This moment… and he needed her. He always needed her, he would always need her.

In that split second of thinking, Oliver knew he couldn’t wait anymore.

_Felicity…_

Felicity opened up for him and her tongue met his in the middle. Her moan vibrated through him and Oliver wrapped an arm around her, pressing her up against the car again as one hand slipped down her waist and hip, down to her thigh where he lifted it up, letting him press himself up against her.

“Oliver…” she gasped, senselessly, sounding too far gone to do anything but feel…

“Felicity,” he groaned, capturing her lips again.

Her blunt nails dug into his jacket, pulling him closer as he lifted her leg higher, his fingers slipping into the crook of her knee, and she wrapped her leg around him, her heel digging into his thigh. 

“Come home with me,” he whispered against her lips, so softly he barely heard it himself, but she caught them… and she stiffened. It was so minute, barely visible, but he felt it as if he’d been the one flinching, and it sobered him instantly. He pulled back, and watched the pleasure-fueled contentment drain from her face.

A knife twisted in his gut as he watched her retreat right before his eyes. “Felicity…”

“I-I can’t,” she said. Her lips trembled, the beautiful flush she’d been harboring evaporating, hesitancy, uncertainty… _fear_ … filling her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Neither moved, her words hanging stagnant in the air. She withdrew more the longer he didn’t move, didn’t speak, and Oliver…

Oliver was… numb. He felt like he’d inadvertently handed her a piece of his heart and it had turned to ash the instant it touched her palm. Oliver swallowed thickly, licking his lips… and gently set her leg down, unwinding her arms. He took a few steps back, his eyes never leaving hers.

Talk. They were supposed to talk. They were supposed to decide what it was that they were - because it damn well was more than _friends_ , no matter what she said - and then… then it was supposed to be okay.

_Talk._

But she’d said everything he needed to hear.

_“I can’t. I’m sorry.”_

“Oliver…” 

“It’s fine,” Oliver said, his voice rough. His eyes ticked to her open car door, for the first time hearing the monotonous tone of her car alerting to the fact the door was still hanging open. “I’ll follow you. To make sure you get home.”

“Oliver…” she said, her voice sounding tiny. “You don’t have to.”

He smiled, but it was a ghost of what he’d been felt a bare few minutes ago, and didn’t reply. Instead he turned, and found one of his gloves on the ground where he’d tossed it. The other was a few feet away, closer to his bike. He picked them up, not feeling the hot burn of her eyes on his back as he numbly put them back on, feeling the oddest sense of detachment, like he wasn’t really there…

The sound of her car starting up pulled him back, and Oliver waited for her to pull out before he started the bike. He followed her to her apartment, staying back about a block, out of sight, while she got out. His heart stuttered when she hesitated and looked around for him... and then she went inside.

The second she was out of sight, the hot burn in his chest lit him up from the inside out.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the wonderful response to this mini-series! I’m intrigued to hear what everyone thinks since I’ve switched the tables with them - it’s surprisingly hard to get into their heads when it’s Oliver wanting to go forward, and Felicity holding back. :P
> 
> One more part planned!


	8. Oliver & Felicity, Part 6/6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story #8 in my Mutual Release ficlets. Set in Season 2.5. The night is far from over…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the amazing response to this story. It started out as a simple couple of smutlets and really grew into _so much more_. The deeper I got into this story, the more I wished I'd spent some more time fleshing it out in a larger, more involved one because of the path I put Felicity on. It really deserves so much more - she deserves so much more. I loved (and kind of hated, because I cut myself off at the knees with the nature of this series) getting inside her insecurities and reversing the roles between them, it was delightful and it humanized Felicity a great deal more for me.
> 
> A huge thank you to mersayseh for reviewing this update!

Felicity unlocked the front door, letting it swing open.

Her hand hovered where the lock had been, her keys clenched in a tight fist.

She didn’t step in.

Instead she stared into the black hole that waited for her; the slants of streetlight coming through the open blinds, highlighting her couch and the TV, the dull green time on her stove, the quick tick of the clock she never actually used to tell time.

It all waited for her… and she was afraid if she stepped in there, she wouldn’t come out again. It was safety and surety, a promise that she’d made the right decision, that she would be okay, that everything would be okay because she’d made the right, _safe_ choice…

Something was stopping her from lifting her foot and going inside.

Felicity blinked, swallowing, completely unable to move.

Her skin felt like it had a life of its own, vibrating over every inch of her; her heart hummed erratically, like it was pumping too hard, shoving blood through her veins like they were train tunnels instead of tiny vessels.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

She could still feel him, smell him, _taste_ him…

_“Come home with me.”_

Felicity squeezed her keys tightly, taking a deep, shaky breath. In her mind’s eyes, she hadn’t left the bluff… she could still see him, clear as day.

_Oliver…_

God, just thinking his name was like someone slicing through her lung with a serrated blade. How had things gotten so messed up? How had they gotten here, how had _she_ gotten here? 

_“Come home with me.”_

Felicity’s heart dropped at the echo of his words and she pinched her lips until it hurt.

It had been a week of lingering looks, small glances, avoiding each other like the plague. He didn’t make a move and so she didn’t, effectively erasing the quiet and beautiful intimacy from their one night in the foundry.

_“Oliver, let’s not make this a thing. If we make it a thing, it becomes a thing that we have to… make, and… What I’m trying to say is it happened, and if it happens again, great, and if it doesn’t… great. Let’s not complicate it.”_

But that was for the best, it had to be. Because it wasn’t just Oliver’s touch, his kisses, his caresses or his soft voice whispering things in her ear that she missed… it was _him_. She missed _him_. She wanted to go to him, talk to him, _be_ with him…

It was for the best, the distance, for the both of them. She had taken away the weird complications that could arise out of them being a _them_ and saved herself the heartbreak that would inevitably come if - _when_ \- she allowed herself to fully fall for him. Because she would.

_Because she already had._

Except her body didn’t get the memo. It remembered far too well what he could do to her, for her; how he touched her like he’d been doing it for years already, knowing exactly what she needed, where she needed it…

And then he’d been sparring earlier, his shirt off…

As she’d watched him move, watched the play of muscles and how his scars contracted with his movements, she realized that she’d gotten to see and touch him in some of the most intimate ways possible, but she’d been robbed of the quiet intimacy that came from _exploring him_.

His scars, his tattoos… exploring each ab with her tongue, dragging her nails down his chest, scraping them over his nipples, learning what he responded to, learning _him_ …

It had made her chest contract - with regret and frustration that she couldn’t put her issues aside - but also with _need_.

It hadn’t been enough, she discovered over the last week, touching herself wasn’t enough; she came, but she needed _more_.

She needed him.

Felicity must have made a sound because Oliver had turned an instant later and Diggle had clipped him, breaking the spell. She’d escaped as quickly as she could after that, Oliver’s eyes burning a hole in her back the entire time - she couldn’t even look him in the eye, especially when she’d started babbling like an idiot on about being a queen… and all that followed by hours of sitting on her own, on top of the bluff, nobody talking over the coms, hearing only Diggle’s easy breathing, and Oliver’s heavier, more accented one…

If thirty other people had been breathing on the coms, she’d be able to pick his out instantly.

She knew what he sounded like when her fingers were wrapped around his erection, the tiny noises he made when he ate her out, how soft his voice was when he whispered into her ear, urging her to come, his fingers between her legs… his pleasure-filled whimpers when he rubbed himself against her…

The deep moan that ended in a sharp breathy cry when he came.

It was almost too much, having to hear him without being able to do anything about it, when her computer had beeped, and she’d been able to hack into the compound… The mission was over quickly and she’d begged off as soon as she could. But somehow, while putting all her equipment away, hearing only the sound of the water below, the wind rustling the trees, she’d felt so… alone, and so needy…

And he’d heard her.

She didn’t know how her com came back on, but it hadn’t mattered because all she’d needed was the sound of his rough voice, urging her to touch herself… his voice alone had been enough for a flood of wetness to coat her fingers, and she hadn’t been able to stop, remembering how good i>his fingers felt, rubbing her just like she’d shown him that morning in the kitchen…

_“You tasted so good… and you were so responsive; god, you were so responsive, I wanted to eat you out all night, lick your clit until you were begging me to stop…”_

It hadn’t been her hand touching her, but his, the whispered words over the com his lips pressed to her ear, his hot breath dancing over her, making her shiver with need. Her pleasure had spiked…

Felicity’s body clenched at the memory and she leaned against the wall, her head falling back with a dull thud as she remembered how she’d nearly come when he’d asked her to use her fingers.

And then he’d said he was coming to her.

The logical side of her had wanted to say no, and she almost did, because it was safer, easier… but she hadn’t _cared_. She’d wanted nothing more than to feel him against her again, kiss him, touch him, breathe him in… 

She’d teased herself, listening to the rev of his bike over the com and the next thing she knew, he was there and all that mattered was getting to him.

He’d felt so _good_ against her, his warm, urgent hands everywhere, his confident touch, his soft lips as he shoved three fingers as deep as he could inside her, his thumb flicking her clit. The thrust of his hips against his hand, pushing his fingers deeper, her orgasm crashing through her… followed by the hard gravel under her knees, her body still throbbing from the orgasm he’d wrenched out of her as she took in the musky mixture of _Oliver_ and well-worn leather.

The sounds he’d made when she’d wrapped her lips around him, how he’d gripped her hair in a tight fist, fighting the urge to thrust deep into her mouth.

_“I don’t… want to… Fuck, Felicity…”_

_“It’s okay. I want you to.”_

He’d fought it, for a moment, before giving in, trusting her to take care of both of them, just like when he’d come all over her in the foundry - she’d never forget the sensation of his hot cum landing on her thighs, coating her between her legs - but this time she’d gotten to _taste_ him, and it had been so good, so much better than she could have dreamed. He was salty, musky and delicious, and she’d sucked and licked and bobbed until he’d come, hard, his fingers tangled in her hair, burning her scalp as she swallowed every last bit of him. 

The look he’d given her after…

The way he’d kissed her…

_Perfect._

It had been perfect, just like before, and easy.

She could handle the simple stuff, when it was just about them touching each other, giving and taking pleasure equally…

_“Come home with me.”_

The words had slammed into her like a tsunami. White noise had filled her head like a nest of hornets beating against her skull as it all came rushing back to her: the last week, the stolen moments in the foundry, and all the way back to when he’d smelled her arousal on her fingers… back to when she’d heard him gasping her name in the other room as he’d jerked off, when she’d touched herself, getting off at the thought that he was getting off thinking about her…

And her heart had turned to ice.

It was everything they’d done - the brief moments, the what-if’s, the quick touches and the slow, lingering ones, the hurried kisses and the wet ones that were more a brand than anything… it all surged up inside her chest in a tidal wave, threatening to pull her under, because what if she did go home with him? What then? Is that all this would be, would they sleep together and nothing more? Isn’t that what he’d stopped himself from doing last week, isn’t that the line they couldn’t cross?

Isn’t that what this entire thing had been from the beginning, giving into a mutual attraction that that had somehow spiraled into something else, but nothing more?

_“I don’t think this is… smart.”_

_“Pretend it didn’t happen it is then.”_

It had taken way too many nights staring at the ceiling, dissecting the complicated web of emotions she found clogging her every thought to realize she _knew_ \- she always had - that whatever they were then wasn’t enough; it was never going to be enough.

So before it went too far, before she got in too deep, she had to stop it, and so she had.

_“I-I can’t… I’m sorry.”_

Felicity had watched that beautiful open smile fade away, the, _“It’s fine,”_ slipping out, jagged with the emotion his face was hiding…

“God…” Felicity whispered, the burn of tears making her eyes sting.

She’d never seen that look on Oliver’s face, and she’d seen plenty of them. She’d seen him beaten down, the life literally stolen from him; she’d seen him stripped of everything, from having to watch his friends and family murdered before his eyes, watch helplessly as the light in their faces fade away; she’d seen him hopeless, drifting through life without an anchor in the world, existing from moment to moment… she’d seen him when there was absolutely _nothing_ left, but she’d never seen him look the way he had that night.

It had been _hope_ … slowly fading into nothing.

Felicity closed her eyes, bowing her head, feeling like her chest was going to implode any minute.

He’d been hoping… hoping she said yes? What did he want? What did she want? She should have said something, but the words hadn’t come. She’d watched him walk away, back to his bike, where he waited for her to continue with the very concrete line she’d just slammed down between them, _again_.

She had done that.

It was because of her that he’d looked that way.

Felicity looked back into the apartment. She knew if she stepped in there that would be it, she would be closing the door on whatever it was she’d seen… but if she went to the foundry? Was there more? Did he want more? What if he didn’t, and she was blowing this way out of proportion? What then?

Rejection wasn’t a new thing in her world, she’d learned to harden herself against it when her father left… and then when Cooper was arrested… and then when she found out he’d killed himself… it wasn’t new, and if she was being honest with herself it was probably having a little too much influence right now, because the mere _thought_ of Oliver rejecting her left her _empty_ , and she couldn’t handle that….

… but the thought of him going on, looking at her like he had, that _blankness_ , no longer _her_ Oliver… she couldn’t handle that either.

The sound of a motorcycle - _his_ motorcycle - suddenly shot to life somewhere in the distance.

Felicity jumped, the violent hum of her heart filling her ears with white noise.

She waited for him to drive away… but the engine only idled.

He was waiting.

Felicity bit her lip, her feet itching to step out, to wave at him, to tell him…

The unnamed thought had her reaching inside and flipping one the lights on. The instant the harsh luminescence broke through the dark, the engine revved again, and her stomach dropped, knowing the second she heard it that she’d made the wrong decision.

“Wait,” Felicity breathed, moving around the corner to catch him but Oliver was already taking off, the distinct rumble rapidly disappearing down the street as he drove away.

Felicity slammed her door shut without locking it, her keys slipping from her fingers. They landed with a loud clatter on the ground and she scrambled for them, tripping over her muddy heels.

Before she could second-guess herself, Felicity had the car on and reversed out of her spot, following him. 

*

Exhaustion pulled at his bones.

Oliver was on autopilot, cleaning his hair first and then soaping his body. He couldn’t remember if he’d already cleaned his torso, or if he’d cleaned off the blood that had somehow ended up on his calf, or if he’d scrubbed all the dirt out from under his fingernails - he had that meeting with the QC Board next week, he needed to at least _look_ the part of someone who wanted to own the company again.

He went through the motions, his mind a million miles away.

The water was hot - scalding - and it stung the cuts he’d gotten earlier in the night, and he reveled in it. 

How had this spiraled so far out of control?

It was his fault; he’d started this, all of this, and he’d let himself get in too deep… so deep that he ended up pushing her away, and now things would never be the same.

He kept hearing Felicity’s trembling voice, seeing her wide eyes filling with reluctance and - worst of all - _fear_. Fear of what, him? Them? They hadn’t even talked about it, and already she was saying no. Which was _fine_. She’d made her choice and he was going to respect it, because they had no claim on each other.

There wasn’t anything to claim if she didn’t want more, right?

He was _fine_.

So why did he feel like she’d shoved an icepick into his chest with her, _“I-I can’t… I’m sorry.”_

Oliver bit his tongue until it stung. Why hadn’t he said something? Why hadn’t he questioned her? But who was he to question how she felt? She didn’t want to come back with him, she didn’t want… _him_. A mixture of shame and despair slowly stole the air from his lungs at that thought… because there was _more_ , on his side. There had been more, long since before he’d whispered those words to her in the mansion, those simple words used only to fool Slade…

Except they hadn’t just been words, had they?

Oliver stayed in the shower until the water ran cold, and when he couldn’t take it any longer, he shut it off. He didn’t glance in the mirror as he grabbed the towel, running it over his limbs just enough to wipe off the excess water before he wrapped it around his hips and headed towards his cot.

The exhaustion yanking at his every muscle like tiny strings weighed down with weights wasn’t physical… it was everything else. His entire being was _spent_. Somewhere along the line, something had shifted, and when they’d started whatever… whatever it was they had been doing, it had only sealed the deal:

He was in love with her.

And he’d fucked it all up. They should never have done this, never crossed that line… He should have let things go that morning in the kitchen, push his feelings down, pretend they don’t exist, but he hadn’t been able to.

And now look what where they were.

“Damn it,” Oliver murmured, rubbing his face until it burned as he reached the cot.

A tiny, “Oh,” sounded followed quickly by the sound of rustling clothes.

Oliver froze and looked up.

_Felicity._

“Hi,” she said softly.

Oliver didn’t move.

He just stared at her.

She was wearing the same dress, the same shoes… her knees were still dirty from where she’d kneeled in the gravel, her hair disheveled. She’d come straight here from her apartment, he realized, his stomach dropping at the thought, leaving his lungs grappling for air.

What was she doing here?

She licked her lips - they were still faded from the dark pink lipstick she’d been wearing, faded from their kisses, the delicate skin around her mouth darkened in spots from his beard - and she glanced around, before looking down at her hands where they were clenched together.

She looked… _nervous._

_Scared._

Oliver’s chest clenched at the thought.

Felicity opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“Felicity…” he whispered. She looked up, startled, and the entire night came back to him, and his chest felt even tighter as she gave him the same look she had on the bluff. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um…” She stopped… and he waited, not moving, not doing anything… “Oliver, I… I wanted to… I wanted to say… I’m sorry.”

Oliver furrowed his brow, taking an instinctive step towards her before he stopped himself. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, Felicity; I should be the one-”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I do, I really do, because I… I wanted to come home with you.”

Oliver blinked. “What?”

“I wanted to come home with you,” she repeated, giving him a smile, and he noticed the light sheen of tears in her eyes. “But… I want more… Oliver, I want more than… what this has been.” His eyes widened, and he took another step towards her when she blurted, “But that’s the problem!” 

Oliver froze.

“I want _more_ ,” she said, tears making her words heavy. “I want…” She waved at the cot. “I want to sleep with you, and I mean that in the ‘not-having-sex’ sort of way, although I’d really like that part too - a lot - but the… sleeping, _just_ sleeping. I want to wake up with you. I want to know what kind of cereal you prefer, or what you think about spontaneous road trips, or why you tie your shoes the way you do… I want…” She pinched her lips, a tear slipping down her cheek; Oliver’s heart constricted at the _struggle_ on her face as she continued, “I want _you_ , Oliver, and that-”

He didn’t let her get the rest out.

Oliver was already moving, blood filling his ears as her words rattled inside him. _“I want you.”_

“Oliver-”

He cupped her face, his lips covering hers, swallowing the rest of her words. She gasped, and responded instantly, her chilly hands landing on his chest, her nails scrabbling for purchase, returning the kiss with equal ardor.

“Felicity,” he whispered, kissing her again, and again. Her grip on him tightened and Oliver yanked her closer, wrapping one arm around her, the other still cradling her face. A ho tear slipped out and he wiped it away. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m…” Felicity pulled back, her eyes squeezed shut, more tears leaking out. “I’m sorry, it’s not…” He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers. She pressed back just as hard, her hand cupping the back of his neck to pull him in closer. “Oliver… I’m scared, that this…”

Oliver’s heart skipped a painful beat at the tremor in her voice, his stomach dropping - he felt like he was on a rollercoaster, being shoved in every direction. He pulled back to look at her but she held on to him, not letting him move. Oliver held her tighter, pushing his hand into her hair to anchor her closer.

“What is it?” he asked softly and she shook her head against him.

“That this is… real, I guess.” She took a deep breath, pressing her face against his. “That what I feel is… isn’t… everything you feel.” Oliver frowned as she continued, “God, now that I’m saying it out loud, it sounds so stupid, I can’t…” She let out a noise of frustration. “I’m scared that this is one-sided, that you aren’t on the same page, that you don’t want the same thing, that you already said you didn’t think we should continue this, and that actually having sex is the worst idea ever because it would mean that I’ll realize that I… that I really… that if it’s just sex to you…”

“Felicity…” Oliver pulled back, ignoring her hands trying to stop him. He pulled back just enough to cup her cheek again, rubbing his thumb under her eyes. God, she was giving him _everything_ , and he felt like soaring. “Look at me.”

She didn’t, for a moment, and he whispered it again, “Look at me, Felicity,” before she did… laying everything out for him to see, and he took it.

“It’s not just sex, Felicity. It never was.” Her eyes widened. “I want this.”

She stared at him, her eyes searching his… and then she whispered, “Oliver,” her voice trembling. 

He kissed her, softly, and she returned it just as gently… 

It slowly grew more fervent, more passionate. She kissed him like she hadn’t had him a few hours ago, like they hadn’t done anything the last several weeks. This was _different_ ; it was more. It was everything they hadn’t been saying, everything all those tiny moments between them had been building up to. Neither of them spoke - they didn’t have to.

Oliver took a step back, moving them towards the cot. When his knees bumped into it, he sat down, breaking the kiss, pulling her between his legs, barely remembering he was only wearing a damn towel. 

Time seemed to freeze for both of them as they took each other in. She kicked her heels off, dropping her a few inches, and Oliver pushed his hands around her hips, pulling her closer to him. She brushed her fingers through his hair, dragging her nails over his scalp.

Slowly, tentatively, Felicity leaned down and pressed her lips against his again… so softly, so… perfectly. He moaned, opening his mouth to hers. He reached up, pressing his hands up and under her jacket. She helped him pull her jacket off and it landed in a heap, his hands already moving to the zipper at her side. He pulled it down slowly, leaning back when it was all the way down.

He wanted to see her; he needed to see her, like this.

Her eyes were hooded behind her glasses, her mouth open in a soft pant as he pushed his hand into her dress. His eyes never left hers as he skimmed her flushed skin.

The new intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on either of them as touched her, feeling like it was the first time…

In so many ways it was.

She shivered, goosebumps erupting across her skin. She shrugged her shoulders, letting the dress slip down and when it pooled at her waist, he helped her push it off, leaving her in nothing but her bra and panties. Oliver grasped her waist, his thumbs stroking her sensitive skin and murmured, “You are so beautiful,” his eyes still on hers.

Felicity brushed her fingers over his forehead and down the side of his face. “So are you.” And then her mouth slanted over his.

Oliver wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against his chest, his hands roaming over her back, slipping over her bra. With a tiny moan, Felicity reached back and unhooked it, pulling back enough to slip it down her arms and discard it.

He watched her with hooded eyes, his hands circling her waist, keeping her still as he took her in. Her pert breasts beckoned to him, her nipples already hard and rosy, and Oliver leaned in, dragging his nose along a soft curve. Her breath hitched, her eyes on him… Oliver lightly dragged his fingertips across her back, making her shudder, as he gently explored her for the first time.

Oliver looked up at her as he wrapped his lips around one of her nipples. Felicity gasped his name, her eyelids fluttering when he swirled his tongue around the hard nub, sucking it into his mouth. He felt her thighs clenching, her hips yearning towards him, and he slid one hand down to her ass, pushing his hand under her panties. He grasped her cheek tightly, making her jerk against him, her hands fisting in his hair. 

“Oliver,” she gasped, pulling on his hair. The instant he let her nipple go with a wet pop, she leaned down, her mouth attacking his. She cupped his face in her tiny hands, angling his head to deepen the kiss.

Felicity’s hands dropped for a second, long enough to hook into her panties and push them down, and he followed her lead, pushing them down her thighs until they fell to the floor. Oliver quickly undid his towel, shoving it out of the way as she moved to straddle him.

Oliver hooked his hands in under her thighs, pulling her flush against him. His hard cock immediately slid against her wet sex, and her hips jerked, a needy whimper slipping out of her as she settled in his lap, her forehead pressed against his. He moaned, gritting his teeth, his body yearning towards hers…

He’d wanted this for so long, he’d waited for this for so long, and now that it was happening, it was almost too much. Everywhere she touched him burned with need, with desire, with… so much more.

“Are you okay?” she whispered, and he nodded rapidly. She ran her hands over his shoulders, her hips rotating slowly against him, rubbing her hot core along his length. “You’re shaking.”

“Yeah,” he replied with a smile, shaking his head. “I’m just… I’m okay. Felicity…” They stayed like that for a moment, moving against each other slowly, so slowly, until it started to become too much. “Are you… on something, like… the pill?”

“Oh,” Felicity replied, her hips stilling. “I didn’t even… I’m… yeah, I’m covered.”

“Good,” Oliver said, tipping his nose against hers, angling her face for a kiss. “Good.”

Felicity gave him a beautiful breathy little giggle, one that made his chest constrict. “Good, huh?”

He smiled against her lips. “I don’t have anything else,” he replied and she stilled, pulling back.

“You haven’t… I mean, before we-”

“No,” he said. “No, it’s only been you.”

She gave him a breathy gasp before he kissed her. He cupped the back of her neck as she lifted herself up, rubbing against him with a new urgency. 

“Felicity,” he whispered - he wanted to say her name forever - and he pulled back, his breathing heavy as he reached between them to grasp himself. He positioned himself at her entrance, watching her face… and then she slowly pushed down, taking him inside her. He groaned; it was slow, so slow, and they never looked away from each other as she too his entire length inside her.

He’d thought about what it would be like the first time he was inside her… how it would happen. If it’d be hard and fast, or gentle in the dark, under the covers… never like this. This was so… so much more. 

“Oliver,” she breathed, her voice cracking and she lifted herself up and thrust down on him. “Ooh god. You feel… so good.”

“Felicity,” he whispered, kissing her. When she fell down on him again, he pulled her legs up until they were wrapped around him, letting him go _deeper_ and she gasped, her inner walls clenching around him.

They wrapped themselves around each other and moved. The cot squeaked softy beneath them, the pleasure slowly building in time with their breathy gasps, their moans growing louder and louder, their movements becoming more hurried. They clung to each other, with each other, for each other, feeling nothing but that moment, knowing nothing else mattered but _this_. Them, being together, as one…

The hot burn started building at the base of his spine and he groaned, wrapping her tighter around him, one hand dropping down to press her more fully into him. When the movement pressed her clit against him, she shuddered. He did it again, and again, and her thrusts starting growing more urgent, her cries louder.

“Oh god, oh god…” Felicity rotated her hips against him as she bounced in short, hard thrusts on top of him, her cries growing sharper. “Oliver, Oliver… Oliver… Oliv-”

She pressed her forehead to his, holding him tighter, their combined breath fogging her glasses as she thrust down harder.

“Felicity,” Oliver panted, the pleasure inside him suddenly building rapidly. “Oh god… Felicity… come with me, come with me, come…”

“Ah ah aahh!” Felicity yelped, her back bowing as she came with a breathless cry, her walls clenching around him. 

“Oh… oh… fu…” Oliver held her tighter, his hand shoving her hips against him in quick successive thrusts that shoved him over the edge. 

Oliver came with a heavy shout, emptying everything he had inside her. He whimpered, her walls squeezing him tightly. Felicity held him as he jerked against her, shudders wracking his body. She pressed a light kiss to his forehead and down the bridge of his nose, reaching his lips. He sighed, holding her as close as he could with the little strength he had left. She whispered his name, kissing him again and again… saying all the things they couldn’t vocalize just yet.

They didn’t move for a long time, just holding each other, kissing… loving…

“Felicity…” he whispered, each syllable heavy with so much more… but they weren’t there yet.

After a moment, Oliver reached up, lazily removing her glasses. Felicity sighed, nuzzling him, before she buried her face in the crook of his neck. She dragged her tongue up the column of his throat as he ran his hands over her back and up into her hair. Oliver pulled her ponytail out, letting it fall over both of them; he pushed his hands up into the mass, massaging her scalp, loosening her hair even more, and she moaned her approval.

Felicity shifted, barely pressing her hips against his, and Oliver hissed when she pushed against his sensitive flesh, giving her a choked, “Oh god,” when she tightened her inner walls around him.

“Too soon?” she whispered with a smile, and he guffawed, dropping his hands to grip her hips. He yanked them down even harder. It was her turn to hiss, her back arching, pressing her breasts into his chest. Oliver did it again; he felt her walls fluttering around him as he panted in time with her gasps, feeling himself growing hard again inside her. “Oliver…”

Her hips started moving in tiny, uneven thrusts, her legs trembling with the effort. Oliver wrapped an arm around her hips and he shoved her down, pressing himself in as deep as he could and stood up, twisting them before he laid them both down on the cot, thrusting in deep.

“Ooh,” Felicity moaned, pulling her legs up and he sunk in her deeper… His hips moved minutely, barely enough to graze her clit, but she felt every inch of it, her hips pushing up against him, yearning for _more_.

“You are insatiable,” he murmured, propping himself up on his elbows to see her as he pressed his pelvic bone against hers. She giggled, and he inhaled sharply when her walls clamped down on him again.

He was still far too sensitive, too spent to do much more than move gently, but he needed to keep doing something. He never wanted to stop… he needed to feel her, as much as possible, for as long as he could… 

Felicity mewled underneath him. She gripped his shoulders, her dainty feet falling into the crooks of his knees.

Oliver watched her through hooded eyes. She was stunning; her hair was spread out around her, her skin flushed, covered in marks he didn’t remember leaving. She licked her lips slowly, thoroughly enjoying his gentle ministrations.

When she opened her eyes, she looked up at him with such a wanton look that his body immediately tightened with need.

God, how did she do that to him?

Oliver pushed himself as deep as he could, making her gasp… and stopped, resting in the perfect cradle of her hips.

Felicity blinked slowly, smiling languidly. She drew her hand up his neck to his face, her finger caressing his brow. “What?”

Oliver studied her, almost in awe, before he whispered, “I’m glad you’re here.”

She blinked. He caught a shadow cross her face, but she didn’t look away. When the flit of darkness disappeared - for good - a rush of gratitude flooded his system.

She nodded. “Me too.”

A grin flashed over his lips. Moving with slow precision, Oliver reached up to caress her face. He pressed a strand of hair off her forehead, smoothing the wayward hair down before softly touching her brow. She stayed still under his perusal, her breath hitching when he dragged his fingers down her cheek, across the corner of her mouth before it slid over her plump lips.

“Felicity…”

Oliver cupped her cheek. His heart skipped a beat when she naturally turned into it - for a vivid second he was taken back to another time when she had done the same thing, when she’d been shot saving Sara. 

He’d known he felt something for her then, but he’d been so adamant about _not_ feeling it.

_“You will always be my girl, Felicity.”_

She hummed, bringing him back to her, and Oliver swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, meeting her gaze again. “What changed your mind?”

Oliver watched a myriad of emotions skate across her features before she said, “I don’t know.” Felicity cupped his face between her hands, caressing him as he had her. She ran her index finger between his eyebrows, her eyes following the movement. “You looked at me… _different_ , tonight. I didn’t like it, I didn’t like that you’d been smiling…” She smiled at the memory before it faltered. “And then suddenly you weren’t. Because of me.

“I didn’t want to lose you… as you, you know? You’ve become so important to me, Oliver, such a huge part of my life, and I didn’t want… to lose that, to lose you…”

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said softly, leaning into her touch before he gave her a gentle kiss.

“I was so sure that this was one-sided.” She still didn’t meet his eye, busying herself with following the soft lines of his beard before she continued, “I was okay with that too, at first, because it was easier to pretend I didn’t… feel the things I felt. But then it became more. I mean, it was already more, but it became more… _more_ , and I didn’t…” She finally met his gaze again, and just like before she laid out _everything_. “I don’t do well, losing people close to me… or when I might get hurt, like I… like I tend to when I’m…”

She didn’t have to finish the thought for him to know what she was saying.

Oliver cupped her face, the vehemence in his voice belying the quite whisper as he said, “I will never hurt you, Felicity. Ever.”

“I know,” she replied, just as softly, without hesitation. She blinked away the light sheen of tears in her eyes as she said with her own vehemence, “I know that.”

Oliver searched her eyes, wanting to _see_ it… and when he did, he whispered her name, achingly, the single word matching everything he’d heard in her voice. A heavy moment passed with just them, in their… bubble, their cocoon. Just them…

“Thank you,” Felicity whispered, and his heart felt so full he thought it might burst. She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. She brought her legs up, reminding both of them of just where they were. Oliver moaned when he shifted inside her, his hard length slipping through her ample wetness, and she tightened her hold on him , pulling her legs closer to her chest, letting him sink in deeper.

Oliver blanketed her, pushing himself in as far as he could go, forcing her to break away, gasping for air. He cuddled her closer, pulling out achingly slow and he thrust back in. She choked on a moan when he did it again, her fingers starting to shake where she held him. Felicity pressed her lips to his once, twice… chaste, easy kisses that he gave back just as fully as he slowly… made love to her.

He was making love to her.

“Oh god, Felicity,” he whispered and she whimpered, wrapping her legs around his hips, locking her ankles together. Oliver peppered light kisses all over her, pressing his fingers into her tangled hair, anchoring her to him. His name slipped past her lips, sounding so perfect, and he kissed her again, and again.

Her cries suddenly changed, growing heavier with urgency, and Oliver pulled back, just enough to see her, to watch her. 

“Felicity, look at me…” 

Her eyes found his, and they stayed locked on each other. His thrusts grew deeper, her hips moving to meet his…

They held each other as close as they could, the cot rocking beneath them.

Oliver suddenly changed his angle, pushing down right on her clit and she cried out, her lids growing heavy, but she never looked away… even when her body tightened around him, when her mouth fell open in a breathless moan, when she gasped his name as she came for him, her eyes dilating, her skin growing dark with a pink flush. The sight of her coming apart, giving herself to him completely, had Oliver thrusting into her wet heat faster, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Oh… god, Felicity, Felicity, Felic… aahhh!”

With one hard final thrust, Oliver came inside her again, clenching her so tightly to him he knew he was going to leave bruises… but he didn’t let go.

He never let go.

Oliver didn’t remember moving.

The next thing he was aware of was the harsh contrast of the chilly foundry air slicing across his skin from the wet marks Felicity left all over his chest. He fully woke when her tongue swirled around one of his nipples, before moving lower, kissing, nipping and sucking her way across him. When one of her nails dragged down over his nipple, Oliver hissed. He yanked her up, his mouth claiming hers as he pulled her legs around him. Felicity straddled him and reached between them, grasping him, positioning the head of his cock at her entrance before she sunk down on him, taking him inside her with one hard thrust.

He woke her an hour later.

Her was back pressed to his chest, his hand sliding around her and between her legs. Groggy with sleep, she murmured his name, opening herself for him… so similar to their first night in the foundry, except this time he thrust up into her, filling her from behind. His fingers found her clit and he rubbed her until she was weeping with pleasure, her silken walls pulling his orgasm out of him with a rough shout of her name.

When she’d regained enough of her strength to turn around, she pushed herself into his arms, cuddling against him as they fell into a deep sleep, wrapped around each other, limbs tangled…

Content.

_Happy._

*

Her phone alarm woke her an hour later.

Felicity’s head shot up, tangled hair creating a wicked halo around her head as she looked around blearily, trying to remember where the hell she was and why the hell her phone wasn’t sitting on her nightstand where she’d left it… Her sleep-addled mind slowly reminded her that she _hadn’t_ left it there.

Oliver groaned, tightening his arm around her, digging his face into her shoulder. 

“No,” he croaked. She barely heard him over the melodious tone coming from her phone. “Make it stop.”

Felicity chuckled sleepily. “Sorry,” she whispered, kissing his cheek, intending to get up but then she kissed him again, and again. She kissed his temple, his ear, his neck, unable to help herself because… because last night had really happened, and the more she woke up, the more she realized she was absolutely beside herself with…

_Joy._

_Elation._

_Happiness._

Oliver moaned in contentment, holding her closer, kissing her shoulder, and Felicity felt like flying.

But her phone didn’t stop. 

“I’ll be right back,” she said softly and he moaned again, this time in disagreement, and she grinned. Felicity lifted his arm off, pausing long enough to kiss him again, this time on brow… and then his nose and once on the mouth…

That was a mistake, because he turned into the kiss, his hand appearing out of nowhere to hold her head still as he kissed her thoroughly.

Felicity smiled against his mouth. “Morning.”

He grunted his greeting.

“I’ll be right back. I wasn’t lying when I said I had to open this morning.”

Oliver’s face scrunched, his eyes still closed, his hand appearing around her again. “Don’t go.”

Felicity bit her lip. She stared at him, something she still really didn’t want to name quite yet filling her chest as she whispered, “I’m not going anywhere, Oliver,” her words filled with much, much more than simply getting up to shut her phone off.

He smiled - a real, beautiful Oliver Queen smile - and she kissed him once more before sliding off the cot.

The world was fuzzy without her glasses, but she managed to find a discarded dress shirt piled next to the cot - it was _freezing_ that early in the morning - as Oliver shifted on the cot. She glanced back to find him awake, watching her. He grinned lazily, his eyes dark at the sight of her wearing his shirt, taking all of her in; the look on his face gave her butterflies.

She’d be wearing _these_ much more often.

Felicity scrunched her nose at him before grabbing her phone. She turned the alarm off, blissful silence filling the room once more, and quickly dialed her boss’ phone number, making her way to the bathroom. She left him a quick message, her voice rough from the night before, grating from lack of sleep and so, so much more, before she slipped into the bathroom.

She peed, wincing when she felt how very _sore_ she was down there. It had been a long, long while since she’d been with anyone, and Oliver wasn’t exactly _small_. Felicity giggled at the thought - oh, he was so not small - and wiped herself gingerly, feeling an odd sense of delight at the combination of her juices and his cum all over her thighs.

Felicity washed her hands, and then looked in the mirror.

She looked… _different_. Her lips were swollen, the skin abraded from his beard. She had marks all over her neck and down her chest from his lips and teeth. Her makeup was smudged to hell and her hair… god, her hair was ridiculous but she looked so…

Felicity bit her lip, taking a deep breath… and smiled. The smile quickly broke into a breathy laugh and she shook her head at herself.

She was _happy_.

This was so much more than everything… _ever_.

“Wow,” she whispered.

She was with Oliver.

She was _with_ Oliver. 

A powerful bout of euphoria suddenly swelled in her chest and she covered her face, shaking her head again, grinning so hard it hurt. 

She let out a little squeal, immediately quieting it when she realized what she was doing, before she did a little jig. Her body was so achy - _used_ \- and it felt amazing, because it was from Oliver. Oliver had done that to her, and she had done the same to him…

And they were going to be doing so, so much more.

Felicity laughed again, inhaling deeply. 

With an, “Oh my god, this is really happening,” Felicity went about straightening her hair, wiping away the liner and mascara making her look like a raccoon. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. She should think about bringing a bag over, or was that too soon? She should keep something here anyway, how many late nights had she had with Oliver - and not even doing _that_.

“Oh my _god_ , this is really happening,” she whispered to her reflection; she got a huge grin in response.

Felicity left the bathroom, still shaking her head - in disbelief, really, because _wow_ \- and found Oliver waiting for her, gloriously naked.

“Oh,” she said, her heart jumping into her throat - oh god, had he _heard her_ in there? She smiled at him and blushed when she noted his very tall, very eager erection. “Well, hi there.”

Oliver didn’t say anything. His eyes were dark, his skin flushed, and she barely got out an, “Oliv-” before he was on her, cupping her face possessively, his lips falling on hers. 

Felicity moaned, grasping onto his arms and then he was spinning them, pushing her up against a wall. Before she knew what was happening, Oliver had her shirt spread open, his hand dancing down her body and between her legs.

“Oh god,” she whimpered. She was so tender. She shoved her hands into his hair, digging her nails into his scalp, yanking on him at the pleasure-pain mix he was eliciting from her as he rubbed her, spreading her juices all over her very, very sensitive clit. “Oliver… Oliver, please… that…”

And then he was gone, sinking to his knees before her.

Felicity inhaled quickly as he lifted one of her legs and threw it over his shoulder, his head already ducking down to taste her. The second his tongue darted out and touched her, her head flew back, slamming into the wall, but she didn’t feel it. She arched into his mouth, her hands still in his hair, holding him tightly as he sucked and licked, building her up so quickly that her entire body felt like it was on fire.

Her light cries of, “Oh god, oh god, oh god, I can’t, Oliver, I… I can’t… don’t… don’t stop…” filled the room. She felt harsh tingles growing with force along every nerve ending, growing hotter and hotter as he ate her out with a ferociousness that was alarmingly sexy for so early in the morning.

Felicity babbled mindlessly, pulling on his hair so hard her own fingers started to hurt as she ground down on him.

Oliver suddenly shoved his face right against her, wrapping his lips around her clit. He sucked _hard_.

Her orgasm shattered inside her with a heady cry; she felt it from the tips of her fingers down to her toes as it rocketed through her. 

Oliver stood, wiping his mouth.

“Oh god,” she moaned helplessly at the sight, and he grinned before his mouth covered hers.

She only tasted herself on his lips and tongue as he ravaged her. His hands wrapped around her waist, sliding her up the wall. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and he barely gave her a second to do anything but _feel_ when his hard cock slid against her delicate folds, finding her entrance…

Oliver thrust into her, like he’d been doing it for so much longer than their single night together, filling her completely.

He made her come again, his hand fisted in her hair, her body wrapped around him. He buried his face in her neck as he pounded her into the wall, and she shuddered with a bone-deep pleasure when she felt his release coating her from the inside out, his shout vibrating from his chest into hers…

She took him again on the cot… and then he bent her over in the shower… and then they made love one more time before sleep claimed them both.

They didn’t leave the foundry all day.

Oliver discovered she was ticklish on the outer side of her left arm, much to her chagrin.

Felicity learned why the color blue was his favorite, and how integral Raisa’s role was in the story.

When they ordered from the Chinese place down the street, Felicity found out that Oliver ordered sweet and sour chicken, but always - _always_ \- meant to order sesame instead. That was a Tommy story. 

Oliver asked her why she liked spontaneous road trips and she told him about how she’d come to leave Las Vegas. She’d been accepted to MIT, and she was scheduled to fly out towards the end of the summer, but her friend Carrie had just bought a cheap junk car, and for some reason they thought it would be fun to _drive_ to Boston instead. She went into thorough detail about why that had been a very, very bad idea.

When the sun started dipping below the horizon again, they migrated to Felicity’s apartment, where she fell asleep on him watching an old Doctor Who episode.

Oliver carried her into the bedroom, where he proceeded to wake her up in the best way possible.

*

They took their time, because they had time.

They didn’t define what they were just yet; they were happy just going home - usually to Felicity’s - at the end of the day and _existing_ with each other. They didn’t tell Diggle or Roy, and they wouldn’t until they had a much more serious talk that didn’t wind up with their clothes strewn all over the place.

But they would… eventually; it was just them, and they liked it that way. Still, Felicity saw the smiles on Diggle’s face and the raised eyebrow from Roy, probably because they had a hard time keeping the dopey smiles off their faces, their looks low-key, the lingering touches less linger-y… 

Two days after that night in the foundry, they nearly broke the cot and Felicity talked him into letting her buy him a bed, especially when one of the springs on the stupid thing snapped, forcing them to the ice cold concrete floor in one of their more heated moments.

The next day, they christened the bed.

Two days later they spent an entire night talking about how to get Queen Consolidated back, and he listened with a content smile about how he was going to win the Board over.

One day after that, she bought a fern for the foundry, wondering if maybe she was getting a little _too_ sappy…

… and then Oliver asked her out, on a real date.

A _real_ date, like…

_“Felicity… would you like to go out to dinner with me?”_

_“I’m being serious here, Oliver.”_

_“So am I.”_

_“I don’t want to read… too much into this, but are you… asking me out on a date? Like an actual date? Like a… date-date?”_

_“Su… I mean, the implication being with dinner that you…”_

_“Usually I’m the one talking in sentence fragments.”_

_“Would you like to go to dinner with me?”_

_“Yes.”_

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am considering this an alternate beginning to Season 3. If canon continues on as it does, or if it changes as a result of the relationship that blossomed out of this series, that's up to you. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading and sticking with this story! Please let me know what you thought!
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


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